Remorse
by Izayoi Aki
Summary: A Kingdom Hearts alternate universe fic, in which ooc's and original concepts collide with familiar faces and terminology. Follow Gabryl as he enters a world bigger than he ever imagined. In a dark but suspenseful plot, death is dealt with in a new light.
1. Impulse

Hello readers, and thanks for giving my fanfic a shot. If you don't already know, this is a Kingdom Hearts-based story, which combines my own characters and plot with familiar devices from the main series. Anyone who loves a suspenseful KH-related fic will hopefully find excitement in reading this, as I'd love to please the masses with more chapters. Have fun reading, and I'm always available to take any insights or constructive criticisms.

While this chapter is fairly dark and contains violence, there is far less of that from here on out. It was pretty much meant to set the tone of the story, which you will soon discover.

Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts. Any OC's belong to me, however.

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I - Impulse

_Twilight Town. Nothing remotely twilight about it. Clouds and rain; barely a speck of light in the sky, nor in the hearts of those living there._

He sighed, boot splashing into a puddle on his first step out of the hotel. A wonderful way to start the morning; he could already feel the moisture seeping in through the worn leather. Hardly a man of nineteen, Gabryl had his squinted eyes peer up to the dark gray overcast, admiring the rustling of clouds, and blinked when a flash of lighting in the distance impaired his vision for a moment. He shivered, wishing that he had something with a hood. Crossing his arms, with teeth clenched, he walked on, ignoring the fact that his very presence went unnoticed by every civilian in the town. Any sounds Gabryl made, the way he looked, and his own feelings, would not be sensed. There was another shiver at that reflection, and his arms went rigid as he stopped walking, standing at the street corner. Zoning out, not paying mind to anything external, Gabryl waited for a feeling; a certain urge that would come to him every day around this time. He couldn't be sure when exactly, and how he would react, but Gabryl only resented that it would have to happen.

Gabryl was not happy with his life as a Reaper; it wasn't really a life at all, for more reasons than one. Being undead, in a sense, he was at a loss for a heart. It had been only a couple of years since he had died; not in any stunning manner, but seemingly fated for his duties in the afterlife. He would recall the happiness he felt in the hours before that moment of destruction; being surrounded by loved ones, hearing them laugh and doing so in return. It was over, though, in a few seconds, and the last two years had been like hell; which he found ironic. Gabryl shook his head, blinking up at the traffic signal, directing him to walk across. That feeling wasn't the only thing he was waiting for at the edge of the street.

A lock of black hair fell over an eye from the sudden movement of his steps, and Gabryl took it in two fingers, tucking it behind an ear. His hair as a whole was messy and greasy, from not having bathed in days. He looked down at his feet as he made it to the other side; why care? Not like anyone had ever seen him, or would. Gritting molars, Gabryl attempted to cease all those thoughts. It was those regrets that stopped him from getting any sleep, so he needed to not think and go about his usual schedule. Every day Gabryl made his rounds in this bleak and boring area of the city, waiting for the impulse he knew would come; the impulse that lead to his killing.

A Reaper; bringers of death and sorrow to their victims and those close to them; Gabryl was ashamed of this. When he ever came close to one of these unfortunate people, he suffered from a painful lurch in his stomach, rising to his chest and burning his lungs. If he had a heart, it would be thumping madly, deafening him and heating his head. That horrible, maddening sensation would remain until the hearts of his victims stopped beating. It was funny, however, if he didn't have his own heart, why did he feel such remorse for taking lives? Gabryl had always been told that it was the heart that controlled emotions and housed all the feelings he should be having. He knew that there were hundreds, maybe thousands of Reapers in the world, maybe Twilight Town alone; did they feel the same? How could so many people suffer and still go on? Maybe it explained the dreary atmosphere in the city, because of all the unseen beings doing their jobs; their depression radiating off. When Gabryl started his evil life after death, he expected that the bloodshed wouldn't bother him a bit, as he had been told he'd feel nothing. Yet, every time he saw the looks in the eyes of a helpless man or woman fated for a gruesome end, he would give anything just to put his weapon down. The impulse wouldn't allow it.

Gabryl came just to the middle of the next block, and nearly tripped over his own feet. He let out a small gasp, hand snapping up to his stomach, his eyes dilating, forcing him to close them from the light pouring in. Stopping in his tracks, trying to keep balance, Gabryl clutched at his cloak, wishing to rip out whatever it was that caused the burning, to stop the familiar urge from crawling upward. The pain, however, squirmed up his trachea too fast, nearly exploding in his throat.

"Alright, damn it, alright!" He choked, arm whipping out, horizontal, to his side. Tense fingers were tightened into a fist, and black smoke materialized about his wrist, forming on his hand and swirling into a thin column in his grasp. A shaft of deep, violet metal, reaching nearly seven feet in length, slowly forming from the compressing smoke; topping off at the peak with a long, silver blade, said smoke leaving the mythical icon of death. A classic grim reaper's scythe, personalized for Gabryl in the slightest ways; the flat metal was long and smooth on top, but jagged on the lower edge. The blade even extended to the other side of the shaft, just as dangerous.

Breathing heavy, he used the long weapon to hold his weight up, leaning on it and gripping with his other hand to hold it tightly. His mind swirled; explosion of heat was making it's way into his skull, like multiple tendrils of fire filling up his brain. The impulse would give him a sort of sixth sense to find his victim, and already a path spanning down a few blocks came into view, only in his eyes. It wasn't even physically present, but Gabryl was somehow, able to just feel it there. Sighing with a heavy, exhausted breath, struggling to get to a full standing position, he lifted the scythe, giving it a good practice swing through the air before hefting it over a shoulder, and took a few steps before his sorrowful eyes swept the immense crowd. Muscles tightened in his stomach when a pair of heads appeared bolder in his vision.

The fingers on his left latched back onto his stomach, and Gabryl made haste, wanting to finish this quickly. Pushing through the busy and ignorant pedestrians, they turned their heads as they felt an invisible presence, only to shrug it off. Grunting at the fact that no one would move for him, Gabryl finally reached a clearing; another street crossing. His targets walked over the darkened asphalt, wet from the downpour of rain from the previous night. When Gabryl finally laid eyes on the heads, he locked on and made a brisker pace, making sure not to get too close; anything to not get too attached to the people he had to kill; a single sentence that would make him feel at all empathetic would tear him up inside, more so than the impulse was doing. Regardless, he'd need to be near them when the time came. Weapon in two hands, getting over the continuous, nauseating pain, Gabryl was now walking on a diagonal behind them, eyes trained at their feet rather than faces, but the single instant he had to look at them was enough to send his imaginary heart sinking to his own feet.

Oh, these were the worst sort of kills to make; and hearts to take. It was a young couple, not much older than himself, perhaps in their twenties. Arms around each other's shoulders, not going to fast; seemingly in bliss, in love, in their own little world.. His chest lurched at the smiles on their faces he had seen before averting his gaze, hoping that something would jar his thoughts away from them. Too many times had he ruined the lives of so many, due to a single death, especially those that cared deeply for others. However, this time both bodies gave off a kind of pinkish glow that only Gabryl could see, much like how he was given the sense to track the two down. That meant they were both meant to die, and to think that they didn't even know it; all the things they must have planned for the future. Families and friends would be torn over their mangled bodies, and who knows how many Reapers would get new impulses due to the resulting grief. He shuddered at the thoughts; all the death that would stem, the emotion from the heart that he craved to have for his own, causing more negativity than anything else. He felt his hands gripping his scythe tighter than before; he was confused to how he was feeling, but more confused that he was feeling anything at all. Were they just memories of how to feel in these situations? But how were they any different form feeling the real thing?

These wretched thoughts. These emotions boiling inside him; that he shouldn't even have! It made him want to pass up ever killing again. However, Gabryl had tried this previously, and he had failed. He knew that it was nearly suicide to try and hold back, good as an escape that would be, if at all. For, those higher ranking would reprimand him in ways unavoidable and unimaginable. As far as Gabryl knew, there was no way a Reaper, especially himself, could ever get rid of his burden, he'd just have to wait for an end to it all. Not that he was sure what that would be, but he could only imagine It unpleasant. It wasn't worth pining over, he concluded, and checked the happy faces before him, only to look back down. Why would a being created to destroy still be able to feel remorse for his actions?

The couple near him spoke amongst themselves, and Gabryl decided to block their voices out and just follow, and grieve in his own dark philosophies, mumbling and waiting. The couple then turned on their heels, walking into an alley. It isn't like it was one of those dark, dirty, and ominous-looking alleyways you see in cliché films, either. In fact, was wide, and about as bright as they come in the regularly gloomy Twilight Town. They strolled on though, without a care. It pained Gabryl to watch this, knowing that their end would be a few steps down. There was something terrifying about having prior knowledge of these things.

Closer to the imminent tragedy, Gabryl's breathing unintentionally sped up, a bead of sweat coming around his cheek, which he wiped off, seeing that his knuckles had been whitened from holding the shaft so tightly. This wasn't just from the anxiousness he had never gotten used to. It was fear, an emotion, which he didn't understand for a variety of reasons. Black smoke, like earlier, spiraled from his shoulder, creeping down to his elbow, and finally to where the blackness made a ring on his wrist. A shiny leather band appeared, still morphing like the scythe had minutes ago, with blades snaking over each white knuckle, with other bands strapping them to his hand. They elongated, defiantly sharp, made for combat at in close areas. This was one thing Gabryl never understood originally; he only needed to kill for the heart of a victim, so a scythe made sense due to its obvious symbolism. But a blunt, gauntlet-like weapon? It just seemed ridiculous that he'd ever need such a thing.

The thought was a lot more funny, though, until he actually had to use it on someone; Gabryl was now familiar with he difficult it was to cut into human flesh with his own hand. Distracting himself, Gabryl swiped through the air out of curiosity, hearing a bit of a ringing as the empty space was slashed. They were like talons; each one going to a fine point without the faintest sign of dulling. Flexing his fingers, Gabryl let out a misty breath, and admitted to himself that it made sense, since he'd probably have difficulty swinging the scythe in a place such as this to begin with. Still, there are times when Gabryl thought that some enchanted pistol would be preferable to wrenching someone's organs out, but such trivial ideas got him no where. He looked up, having to squint as his eyes let in more light, the murder scene playing out before him. Wincing, he glanced to a dumpster adjacent to the yellow brick wall. Movement.

A man jumped out in front of the couple, was now menacingly holding up a knife; this is what he was waiting for. That was the thing about Reapers, they didn't kill anyone without it being set up for them. Gabryl would stalk those who would be killed shortly, and wait for the people themselves to instigate any deaths. All he had to do was reap their hearts, which required Gabryl to kill, but not in a way unrelated to the death at hand. Looking at the knife that the mugger grasped, Gabryl noted how he never came upon any deaths that wouldn't seem unusual if the victim was slaughtered with something blunt or sharp. Maybe that is he was only equipped with his claw and scythe. Did that mean that there was a Reaper out there shooting people in the head? It certainly would be a lot easier than what Gabryl did, and a lot less messy. Not to mention less tolling on the emotions whether they be real or not. But, he had to concentrate on the deaths at hand, and not the perfect murders that went on in his head, morbid as the pleasure may seem.

It was usually, in such cases, the deaths were always set up, as it were. This way, it wouldn't seem too out of place or suspicious to find a pair of bodies with stab wounds that looked as though they were from a machete. In the next five or so minutes, Gabryl would leave three slaughtered bodies, making it look like a murder-suicide, with ample struggle. What divine forces made it so the predator and prey fit together so well, without knowledge of the former's presence? The idea that someone could be thinking such things up was disgusting. Kill them, take their respective hearts, and leave someone else for the blame. Wonderful.

The mugger took a step, pointing the rusty point of the knife at the woman while muttering some threats. Another thing Gabryl would tune out; he despised hearing the distress, the fear, the sheer agony of feeling your life on the brink. Then the events leading up to the triple killing began. The man struck out at the mugger's arm, managing to knock the blade out of his hand and send it falling to the cracked ground. They both scrambled for it, punching and clawing at each other for the item of ultimate dominance. The woman stood back, against the moist wall in fear, tears mixed with the rain, just beginning to drizzle. She was in too much dispense to even scream. Gabryl, in a single moment of instinct, took his clawed hand, fingers flattened and formed like his own knife, and brought it up in an uppercut, driving it into her stomach. He was visible only for a moment when the life was taken, sliding the long nails out form the bloodying body, now sinking to the ground. The arm carrying the scythe sprung into action now, and Gabryl swung it behind him, one-handed, the tip of the blade stabbing perfectly downward into the male lover's back. The mugger hadn't noticed, and went for his discarded weapon as his opponent's hand went cold. He was pointing it at him, smirking in pointless triumph, without noticing the writhing body.

Bringing the scythe out of the man, Gabryl's narrowing eyes focused on the mugger, who could now seem him in Gabryl's primal, killing state. It was now his eyes filling with fear for his own life. He wouldn't stay visible for long, though, and would go back to being unnoticed when the third person was killed. In one fluid motion the weapon came from the corpse, gliding around in a crescent and making a quick slice to his throat. The swing of the blade was so amazing and precise; it hadn't decapitated him, which Gabryl had figured was discouraged, most likely due to the rarity of decapitations in mere robberies, but it was understandable. Stealth played a large role in the killing process of a Reaper, and seeing a man with his throat slit with only a knife on the scene would no doubt make sense to any authorities.

Gabryl, with a firm grip, rotated his weapon once it retaliated from the cut, flipping it. The sharp pike, the thin blade that stood poised on the end of the scythe pointed directly at his chest. Gabryl felt a sort of vengeance against this person, amongst his cavalcade of other, ignored emotions, because this man had caused two others to die. If he had never decided to take up stealing from innocent people, then the two bleeding bodies at his feet wouldn't be laying there. In an unanticipated burst of anger, he thrust the scythe-turned-javelin through the sternum, causing a sickening crack, followed by a splattering. Gabryl held it there for at least a second longer than he needed to, scowling, and twisting it as he pulled.

Without warning, Gabryl's scythe went up in a sudden poof of the same black smoke from which it came, and he looked down to his left hand, a thump coming from the body hitting the pavement. More blackness came; this time circling on his gauntlet, and fading into the air, the weapon along with it. The triad of bodies, now without any sound or notice of life, glowed a pink-purple hue for a moment, the light gathering towards each of their respective chests increasing in brightness. Out of each corpse, a radiating, pink, heart-shaped item arose. Gabryl always saw these after he killed someone, it was the spiritual heart of a person. Those things, levitating gently, and rising just as much, were exactly what Gabryl craved for; and to think it was something no living person knew thy really had. Each one lit up the alley, casting the same colored light to the brick walls, and Gabryl stared on in awe. Every time he watched these hearts, they seemed simply beautiful. Whether or not it was his longing for one, they were stunning.

So pure, made of feelings and memories and what made a person whole. Floating higher, at least two stories high, by looking at the buildings. Gabryl felt the envy that he should have for not having one of his own, twisting in an empty chest. Damn, why did he feel this way then? The sadness and longing; those were emotions too, so why were they there? Maybe all the legends and beliefs that many in Twilight Town went by were wrong, and was the kind of thing only a deceased man could know for sure. As the hearts reached the third story, Gabryl saw that by the third window up, each one burst into a small cloud of purple; a mix of the darkness that acted as a shell around them, and light contained within. Gabryl walked, slowly; bloodied hands burrowing into the pockets of his tight, black jeans. He wanted to get out of what was meant to be a crime scene, even if he couldn't be seen. If there's one thing worse than killing a person it's seeing the horrified reaction, and the wasted heart and the life it contains fade to nothing.

Gabryl made his way out of the alley, hoping to forget about what he had just done, but as he turned a corner, there was a scream echoing down the streets, no doubt someone had discovered the scene. Any screams, or yelling, or even sirens from police cars and ambulances coming to area, however, were drowned out by a series of numerous, long, deep rings. Gabryl recognized them, having been born and raised in Twilight Town. They came from atop the bell tower, at the church, nearly a mile away. That bell was ancient, so it was impressive that it kept up making such a loud noise up to this point in time. Gabryl counted the chimes; nine of them. It was so early, and already three people were dead by his hand. As said chimes were absorbed into the usual sounds of the crowd, Gabryl's eyes closed slowly as they dilated once more, and he clenched both fists. Rapidly heating warmth expanded in his stomach once more.

Scrambling amongst a tangle of sheets, Gabryl eventually sat up, not wishing to have even woken up in the first place, and his blurry vision surveying another temporary bedroom. Blankets wrapped around him in a messy fashion, having tossed and turned as a result of haunting nightmares; blood splashed onto him from a previous victim, dyed them in brownish-red splotches. He brushed a few strands of black hair from his eyes, having a double-take at the layers of bloody fabric that covered him, for a moment forgetting his disposition as a harbinger of death. Dried blood, not belonging to him, covered his fingers, and he scowled at it, cursing under his breath. It didn't just plague him of his killing, but was fairly unsanitary to boot. Sighing after a shower, he looked into a steamy mirror, wiping off the excess fog. His eyes were shadowed by black, sleep-deprived rings, which in no way complimented their blue color. Those eyes, which had not glinted, almost angelically, like they did years prior. One might notice that they were taking on a grayish tone, as if the life in them were dying slowly.

Slipping on his garments, he eyed his bare torso's reflection, not yet with a shirt on. It was never really very sunny in Twilight Town, as the weather seemed to prefer darkness, and Gabryl's preference to stay inside as of late didn't allow for him to get any sun. The rest of his paling skin was bruised and scared from fights with tougher targets who managed a good struggle. Gabryl had no idea if Reapers were physically immortal, and he wasn't big on finding out, for all he knew he could end up having to live many years with a few broken bones, which was the last thing he needed. He buttoned the leather vest that he normally wore over his black shirt, decaled in purple designs, and as he shook the water from his draping hair, made his way through the rest of the house.

Being naturally invisible most of the time, and having to constantly kill every few hours, it's difficult for a Reaper to hold up a job and get a regular income. Perhaps it's different for others, but Gabryl would never get any money or supplies without the troubles of his urges getting in the way, so it basically came down to living off of that the dead owned. In fact, the house that Gabryl was sleeping in was that of a victim from yesterday; his last of the day, and after killing he had fallen, out cold, on the luxurious bed. At least it provided some comfort, and was better than some cheap motel, that he might usually have to sneak into at the edge of town. He turned to a shiny new coffee machine, pouring in water, and then heaved a heavier than normal sigh once his eyes laid upon the multitude of exotic mugs. Why did the people he kill always have these little things to make his guilt grow even more? Gabryl finally decided on the least decorated one he could find, and brought the hot liquid to his lips. A particular odor didn't leave the air however, despite the pleasing smell of ground beans.

Gabryl narrowed his eyes to the living room, in which a suede armchair sat an older man, noticeably overweight; this man was to have died of a burglary gone wrong. Fortunately it was while he was in his sleep, so there didn't need to be much of a struggle with potential offender, it made Gabryl glad that the last time he needed to kill in a day was simple, and would let him get to sleep a little easier. Still, it was immaterial considering what Gabryl had done in the past. These sort of deaths, at least, allowed for him to live the rich life for a night and morning, maybe more depending on the situation, though just the one was all he really wanted, even if it was just one in a single month. Under other circumstances he'd stay longer, but due to family photographs dotted around the home, there would most likely be people returning. Regardless, it was acceptable since Gabryl had only come to escape the ensuing storm that had thundered the other night, since apparently there couldn't be a full twenty-four hours in this city without it raining. He gave a sarcastic chuckle at that. Still, a bed never felt so good, even if it was bloodstained. The empty coffee mug was left in the sink; no reason not to be courteous when he could. He stopped in the doorway; oh wait, there was.

Going outside, abandoning the cozy house, Gabryl brought his hand up to shade his eyes from a ray of sunlight. Thick clouds were still rolling around the sky, with light only escaping through cracks, one of which were over him through some ironic happenstance. The mix of dark and light sky was eerie and unattractive at the same time. Eyes settling, pointed downward like usual, all Gabryl had left to do was patrol the city until his impulses took over. It would just be another one of those days he had to grate through, one death after the next. Stuck in his cycle, he always secretly hoped for something exciting to happen, even if it was just some interesting play on a murder or death-related event. Puddles were deep on the sidewalks that he splashed in, upsetting him every time he misjudged their depth. So, he kicked away some of the water for revenge on the pools. And the darkness that came when clouds blew back in front of the sun only deepened his recent depression, or at least a greater one. He desperately needed some way out of this loop, some way to go on with a life that he lost unfairly. Gabryl wasn't even entirely sure how to get out of being Reaper; he assumed that at some point he'd reach his limit of killing, or taking hearts, and that would be that; some sort of heaven or hell or shot at life again. Not that he could expect anything so flashy for himself exactly, but hope was one of the few things that he had left, even with it having mostly deteriorated.

A few hours later, Gabryl had dispatched a man that was bludgeoned to death by a pair of gang members; one of which were stabbed in the process. It turned out that it was much easier to just stab a person, that it is to hit them repeatedly with the blunt end of his scythe, or any heavy object he could find. Once again, Gabryl's mind was drawn to wondering why he was stuck cutting up others, when it was much easier to shoot someone. Heck, why weren't those people back there using guns in the first place? Gabryl was a bit of an expert on how convenient they would be in so many situations. He took a moment to stretch his neck back, craning it, with a small crick. Then it would be someone else's job to take out those two, but, would Gabryl just be trusted with another person destined to die in a more crude way? It could even effect him in a deeper way than he could imagine. Gabryl sat on a park bench as he shuffled through such theories on his place in the world, watching as police cars gathered across the street; reporters and emergency vehicles gathering as well.

Perhaps it was the two years of killing people, but Gabryl began to lose interest in anything the media spouted out regarding death and distraught. It all meant nothing to him. He got up, groaning in tiredness from his sleep deprivation, and from this half of a day's work. Getting back onto the sidewalk, he flicked the same piece of hair that plagued him yesterday out of his eyesight, and heard something else familiar; the bell from the Chapel Hearts rang out on the other side of the park.

The one place in Twilight Town he remembered a lot from his former life, Gabryl could see the clock tower rise over the trees. He saw the old hands point out two o' clock, and he turned as the final chime went off. The old church, which the clock tower was apart of, was known as the Chapel Hearts. Probably the most ancient thing in the whole city, with enormous cogs inspected daily, and prayers spoken for centuries announced in sermons on the same schedule as the bells. You could set your watch by the knees of the people hitting the floor. Deciding to head towards it, Gabryl made it to one side of the building, walking around to the front.

He peered around a large arch, that supported the walls on that side. The use of buttresses such as these were an old technique in architecture, so it reflected on the antique that was the Chapel Hearts. The yellow stone wall ending, Gabryl met a wide, towering door adorned with stained glass. It was white, and still managed to glisten a little in the bits of sunlight that came through the clouds. Its size was almost comical in the uselessness of it all, however, it was for that reason that a side entrance was used. As for it's name though, Chapel Hearts was believed, and still is by many in the town, to be a sort of gathering place for the spirits and souls of the deceased; namely, of course, hearts. Gabryl had always been skeptical to such stories while he was alive, but seeing those legendary hearts float around first-hand, he became a lot more open-minded to the idea that there could be a few of the little pink things caught up in high ceilings. Still, there had to be more important places for hearts to go then to please some devout cultists.

Gabryl shook his head, slowly, putting a hand to his forehead and wiping some perspiration. The humidity was getting to him, and ranting over and over in his head about some religion wouldn't get him anywhere, but neither would thoughts about death and such. He stopped, holding his arms up in the air, yawning with a bit of rage behind it, looking up as the sun went away once more.

"Something happen. Something." Huffing, his eyes averting to the large glass window on the bank to his right. It was pretty reflective, and Gabryl noticed how odd he looked with his arms up, and shyly brought them down, during which he realized with irony that no one saw him. He was allowed to have dignity while dead at least, which was more an assumption than anything, really. His focus shifting, seeing through the window now, Gabryl's eyes widened in surprise. There was some activity going on in their, the kind he recognized; murder. A noise he recognized; gunshots. Some bank robber, holding up a gun, a flannel sack in the other hand, had taken a shot at a security guard, who lay dead on the floor. Gabryl watched, eyes wide, and patted at his chest, stomach, then his sides. Why wasn't his impulse going off…? He thought that he may have ignored the warmth in his gut, but no, there was none. Looking back up, nearly losing it, Gabryl saw a person, running, for some reason unnoticed by the gunman. This person had a bag in each hand, filled with stolen cash, and took at turn for the window. Gabryl almost took a step back on his heel, and the man inside jumped, arms crossed over his face; crashing right through the glass in a burst of shards.

Gabryl took about five double-takes, looking for the robber, only to seem a man, about his age, dressed in black, ragged clothing, standing right in the middle of the mess of glass. His head darted side to side, and his fists clenched on the sacks. It was like no one else in the area could see him, and onlookers were simply shocked that a window seemed to explode out of nowhere. Attention drawn to the scene the scene inside, it was easy to assume it was the fault of a misfire. Gabryl knew that was not the case. With all in the immediate area looking right past the man, Gabryl was, for a moment, convinced even more of civilian idiocy. Watching the man look for a clear escape, he broke into a sprint, right in Gabryl's direction. Gabryl, acting on habit, sidestepped so that this bank robber wouldn't crash into the invisible man in his path, but to his shock, Gabryl was pushed aside before even moving himself.

"How…" His mouth went agape, and an arm raised. "Hey! Come back-" No, that wouldn't work, he was running from the law or something. No, wait, wasn't this guy invisible? Gabryl took a sharp breath and ran after him, arms pumping, and shouted multiple times to get his attention. Nearly falling over from his pursuing though, shoving people on the busy sidewalk out of the way; when was the last time anyone had made contact with him? This person had touched him, seemingly intentionally, and Gabryl wasn't going to assume it as a coincidence. Hot on his trail, Gabryl heard a short, surprising clinking of some object with the ground, and, clenching his teeth, reached down and scooped something up in his hand; the mysterious man had dropped this, he could tell. They both came to a clearing, and even though the unknown didn't know that he was being followed, Gabryl felt as if they were the only two in the large town square, dotted with benches and flower boxes with a marketplace at it's center. Normally a sort of cultural center, Gabryl was ignoring the sights and focused on the man, hunched over, hands on his knees, breathing heavily. Thoughts raced through Gabryl's mind, and he looked to the item in his hand.

The strange piece was made of metal, a chain stretching from one end; and judging by said chain, it looked as though it would be connected to something. Perhaps it was some stolen pocket watch, Gabryl would muse mockingly. He picked it up, looking at the shiny emblem dangling before his eyes. It was simple, silver-colored, and was made of three circles; two small ones connected to the largest, almost like the latter had ears. He wondered how special this was, or if it was just some trinket, however, the idea that someone could see him just excited Gabryl to such an extent. What if this person was a fellow Reaper? They could very well provide him the sustenance he needed in his dreary afterlife, socially and for his mentality. Almost smiling, blue eyes glowing, like they were returning to their original color, Gabryl took a step, but froze when something completely unexpected, and as he would see, quite unfortunate as well, occurred.

A flash of gold light came down in a column in front of the man. Both Reapers, as the unnamed man was, in fact, one, jumped, dead in their tracks, and Gabryl took cover behind one of the planted trees. He peaked around, gripping the chain of the item he found, seeing that his only hope for communication could be threatened, being stared down at with large, blue eyes. Those demeaning eyes burned on top of a dry-skinned, darkened face, and the expression was hardly that of delight. The most notable feature of this being, however, was the large pair of white feathered wings protruding form his back. They shone almost as bright as his eyes, both giving off an ethereal glow. Gabryl happened to know what this man was, rather than who. The only things he knew of with those eyes, wings, and that radiance about them, were Angels. Eyes narrowing, glaring, the man spoke in a deep voice, not suiting the angelic appearance, yet it didn't seem like any other voice would.

"Lucre, being a little more careless this time?" There was a hint of sarcasm in his tone, like he was joking, but the stare he received was ominous. The Reaper, apparently Lucre, looked up in breathless surprise, free hand searching his clothing until he came to a pocket. Digging into it, he gasped when he discovered a hole, cursing under his breath,

"Where is…?!"

He was cut off. Gabryl's wide eyes looked down at what he found on the sidewalk. Whatever it was, it was important, and he needed it.

"Your third offense; using your abilities for personal gain. I've warned you before, you know."

Lucre nodded, solemnly bringing his head up. He was torturing himself on the inside for not checking for his Keychain earlier. The Angel brought up an arm, large fingers extended, and his palm generated a ball of light.

"I'm sure you know what comes next."

Nodding again, faster, speaking quietly, in desperation that he tried to hide, almost whispering from a dry throat.

"Guy's gotta live, not my fault we get these perks and can't do nothing useful with them…"

The Angel, increasing the size of the energy ball, brought it over Lucre's head. He winced as it left his peripherals, as he didn't dare take his eyes away from the enforcer.

"You people do exactly what you have to. Do not think that you are useless, or that you're special. And do not think that we do not know what you all do to get behind our backs." He seemed to seethe, as if on cue. "We shall keep you under our rule, and assure you do what you deserve to do and only that. Now, your punishment." And, not even giving a chance for response, the ball shone brilliantly, and a blast of light emitted, slamming down in a pillar like the Angel had appeared in. When it ceased, there was only smoke hissing from the air, and the two flannel sacks thumping to the ground. Passers-by saw the two bags appear seemingly out of nowhere; passing from the grip of someone non-existent to the realm of the living, only momentarily. Just like when he was visible to the couple, and criminal, for less than a second. Gabryl, wordless and horrified, had seen that man, Reaper or not, be vaporized on the spot. He was confused, and scared, and still his blood raced from the trauma of it all. Why had he been killed… but weren't they already dead? What could be worse, and why did this even happen? The Angel had mentioned something about multiple offenses, but stealing something seemed so minor considering the consequence at hand. And what was the Angel talking about- Reapers doing things? So many questions flooded his throbbing brain, as the angel cracked the knuckles on his large, thick-fingered hand, which had been the source of the blast. His wings flapped out, and he began glowing, as if to leave. Gabryl rushed from behind the tree; pocketing his scavenged Keychain.

"You! Angel! What-"

The large, glowing man looked down as Gabryl neared; his eyes alone scaring him out of saying more. Those eyes, large and blue, seemed to scan Gabryl, seeing right into his mind.

"…Gabryl, is it."

He gave the slightest nod, and couldn't help but think that he must have looked just like the other Reaper, hopeless and without power.

"You've a single violation prior to this moment…"

That brought up the slightest recollection in Gabryl's mind, but he didn't dwell on it for very long. Just how did he know from looking at him? Gabryl clearly remembered his last confrontation with an Angel, and this definitely wasn't the same man. The Angel went on, in deep monotone, raising on eyebrow on an otherwise expressionless face.

"I'm not normally lenient, but I'm willing to let this particular one go." Eyes narrowing, he sensed Gabryl was more oblivious than he originally thought, "'No prolonged contact with other Reapers. Yes? Good. Be warned, however, we will be much more sensitive to any future violation that may occur."

Lifting one heavy hand, a beam of light, blinding, and similar to his vaporizing blast, emitted from it, prompting Gabryl to flinch, eyes closing from the brightness and fear of pain or death. But now, rather, there was but a weapon in his hand, not unlike an deformed, blunt, and what seemed like a rather impractical sword. It was difficult to get a more accurate read on it before the blade was pointed straight in his face, a three-pronged tip perpendicular to his nose. He could see that it was predominantly black, with red streaks up the shaft, curving with the rounded top. With the sharpness of the more demeaning end, and its shape, it gave the illusion of an elongated knife or axe, with the prongs making it more alien. At the bottom end of a guarded hilt was a small metal emblem on a chain, like the one made of silver circles Gabryl found on the ground, having belonged to Lucre. This one, though, from what he could see, took the shape of a small, black axe, almost a miniature version of the weapon itself.

"You know very well what may happen the next time I see you, should your troublesome record escalate by any means. The last thing we need is miscreants like you." The blade disappeared, as did the Angel, in a final, radiating flash of white gold light. Gabryl was left to stand, his entire body quivering from fright, as people flocked to the apparent bags of free money left out of nowhere. Wanting to get away from the mess of greed and negative emotion, more so than he had already experienced this day, he staggered over, leaning on a lamp post. He had wanted something interesting to happen today, to break out of his prison of loneliness and grey skies. Someone had spoken to him directly for the first time in more than a year, and they were threatening to kill him. A person, albeit pushing him out of the way, has acknowledged his physical presence. And not stopping him or getting the chained thing to him on time is what killed him. Why did all of this have to happen at once; why did everything he wanted happen to all come together and scar him for the rest of his undead days. And now, that all of this had happened, what exactly would this change after today?


	2. Chains

Well, I've gotten one feedback so far but hey it's something, and I'm proud for that. IT definitely gave my spirit's a boost and I'll be updating more regularly now, unless demand goes up (which I doubt :3) Enjoy chapter 2, and for those who enjoy the KH bit a little extra, this is where things become more AU-like.

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II - Chains

Quivering in place, the scene that unrolled before Gabryl played over and over again in his mind. That man, another Reaper, a possible means of escape from his isolated prison, killed before him. Death was nothing to Gabryl, normally, but he had never witnessed it being done in that fashion; It was all strangely traumatizing, which was saying a lot for the position Gabryl was in, and the deeds he had done in the past. Maybe it was because he was so used to the gritty scene of stabbing or impaling someone. The amounts of gore he had experienced almost seemed like a natural way of dying by this point; unlike the unknown, supernatural process. A life ended in a flash of light, generated in less than a second; it sickened him somehow, but why? Had it been because Lucre, the Reaper, was falsely accused? No, as Gabryl had clearly seen him steal money, all by taking advantage of the criminals stealing it in the first place. His weight shifted to his right foot, losing his balance as he pictured the smoking remains, which in fact were only a few feet behind him, having stormed up to the Angel. Feeling nauseas, Gabryl started walking, wobbling a little in light headedness, and considered something. That Angel, the one who did the killing himself, was it him that angered Gabryl more than the action?

What Gabryl knew of Angels was limited, having only met them twice prior to this day, and for very short times at that. Regardless, both occasions were remarkably bitter, and left a scar a Gabryl in both cases, to remind him of his dim future. It was those two experience that he didn't like to remember, period, and every haunting nightmare made him wish he wash his memories away for good. Just like this morning, before Gabryl knew that a third encounter would burn in his subconscious. Sighing, trying to erase it now, he held his forehead in a hand, leaning upon a metal pole, supporting traffic signals. The cold object was wet from last night's rain, and he felt the water seep through his sleeve, making his arm slightly cool. Not caring to move until the signal changed, it was the wetness and other little things that came to his attention in his renewed isolation; the words of the people surrounding him grew louder, and the smell of car exhaust became more pungent. Only when he noticed others moving around him did Gabryl start moving again, crossing the street in the crowd that couldn't see him, but still feeling and hearing and smelling what he had sensed moments earlier.

Folding his arms, he came to the opposite side of the road, staring at the ground. Every time the headlight from a car came into his eyesight, he winced, thinking of Lucre's death. Though, he took into consideration what really bothered him; the Angel, as he inferred back there. Was it really their race as a whole that got to him? Perhaps Gabryl sensed some injustice within their ranks, since the only times he ever interacted with them, they were just threatening him with death, constantly warning him of violating their "rules", or, as of today, killing.

It had been nearly five hours since Gabryl had woken up, and it was late in the afternoon, his impulses already quieting for the day. It bothered him, along with the scene replaying in his mind. Reminded then, attempting to take his mind off of it, Gabryl dug into his right pocket, feeling the cool metal bundled at the bottom of it, and pulled it out by it's chain. Gabryl looked around, and stopped walking aimlessly, putting his shoulder to a wall. Now that his premonition that he would vomit disappeared, he wanted to make sure his stomach stayed settled. Looking down between two buildings, he was glad to not see anyone fighting; he was situated right near an alley, not unlike the one that he had done his work in the day before. To pass the time, for his head to relax, Gabryl took out the chained item he found, letting the main, flat part rest in his palm. Some sunlight, managing it's way through the clouds, reflected off the faded item, into his eye by happenstance. Gabryl held it up high, dangling it by the end of the chain, and hung it in front of his face to get rid of the glare, and to inspect it more carefully. He recalled the conversation between Lucre and the Angel; and how the former was apparently looking for this, in quite a panic. If only he held onto it better, this whole mess might've not happened. Gabryl smirked, looking at the tiny rings that made up the chain; Lucre may as well have strung it on his house keys, or something. It essentially was, after all, a well-crafted novelty Keychain, if not an old one, as he could tell by the scratches it had endured. It really wasn't that impressive, though. Could he have used it to fend for himself? Gabryl didn't see how it would be more useful than his own scythe. Squinting, Gabryl searched it for some sort of marking that would make it any more fascinating; all three circle-shaped sections of it, but nothing. He sighed, arms going to his sides, and slouched, more lazily, against the wall.

Looking up at the thinning, still dark clouds, Gabryl bunched the chain in his hand, listening to it jingle a little, when he noticed something out of place in the corner of his eye. A person; not necessarily distinct in appearance, but more what they were doing. Down the street, a woman clad in black, running in obvious haste, due to her shoving others out of the way without a whim. It wasn't very strange to see someone running, but Gabryl was for some reason fixated on this person; they seemed to just stick out. A moment passed, and he could make out her height, form, and a few facial features. She had to be at least his age, if not older, with a long jacket trailing behind her, coat tails torn and dirtied. Her left hand; bloodied, and dripping. The latter was only a little shocking, since Gabryl would normally have intense chest pains, and be ready to kill by the time a person with that much blood on them were trying to escape something, but his experience from the bank told him this might not be the appropriate time for that. She could be the prey of another Reaper, but what else?

Gabryl saw her eyes as she came closer, even with her head turning from one side to the next, constantly, watching out for herself. She was now on the same block, and her eyes were revealed to be captivating, colored a deep orange, unique enough to Gabryl that he could observe them from one street corner to the next. His Reaper eyes were a tad stronger anyway, but he was still shocked. The woman was interesting to say the least, but it still seemed a mystery why; there something special, or did Gabryl just find an attraction that he didn't expect? Those trivial things, taking up the time until she was close enough that the next time her eyes flickered up, they met Gabryl's directly. With her in constant motion, and Gabryl beginning to stand up straight, they kept the visual connection, only for him to break the contact out of embarrassment. Gabryl gave quiet gasp, or more like a quick sucking of breath, and looked back at her. Time seemed to slow during all this, and as he brought his gaze to its previous target, he watched her just taking her eyes away to make her systematic check over to her right. Even though, the way she stared at him wasn't just another one of those. Was that on purpose? Had she seen him like Lucre, was she a Reaper as well? He had to know. Gabryl didn't want to screw things up twice in one day, to lose his chance at freedom.

Gambling with his actions, Gabryl brought himself out from the alley wall, moving onto the sidewalk, and holding out a hand to stop her, or at least see if he could get her attention. However, the hand he held up happened to be still clinging to the Keychain, which he had forgotten to deposit back into his clothing. It dangled, looped over a finger, and glinted once in sparse light, turning as it hung freely. It was that reflection of sunlight that beamed right to the woman's eye, just like it had to Gabryl, and brought her to notice it as well. She knew what a Keychain was, and unlike Gabryl, she knew what purposes it served in the world. It wasn't to be hung on anything, or clipped to a key. That Keychain was for protection, which she dearly needed now. Coming to the alley, she turned on her the toes of one foot, mid-step, when she came next to Gabryl, and pushed her arms out to the left, seizing Gabryl by his shoulders and sending both of them crashing to the muddy ground. Acting on practiced reflexes, Gabryl pushed back, only to be suppressed and sent into a roll; both of them fighting for dominance until the female pinned Gabryl to the wall, behind a set of trash cans, with him enraged and shouting in defiance. Before any words came out though, a gloved hand, the same bloody one from before, clasped down on his mouth forcefully. He could feel sharp fingernails through the leather. Looking up, trying to see his assailant's face more clearly, Gabryl struggled more when a shroud of black enveloped both, making it pitch-black, and impossible for him to see. Something broke through however; a familiar bright light. Thin streaks of it poked through whatever was covering them both in small areas, and, after a few footsteps thudded and a bored-sounding grunt was sighed, the light shone a second time. There were no more footsteps, and whoever had appeared apparently left into thin air.

The sticky, bloody hand peeling off his mouth, the woman kneeled, then standing up, poised in a cautious stance. She didn't seem harmed by the encounter, but Gabryl was drawn to her obvious feature, which had appeared on her since he had first seen her all of forty seconds ago. Spitting out the bodily fluids that stuck to his lips, his eyes scanned in surprise; with her back half-turned to him, Gabryl had a view of a pair of black wings, feathered, not unlike those of the Angels he had seen before, only with a color change. He was afraid initially; immediately going to thoughts of killer Angels, and scrambled up, gripping the scythe that appeared instantly in his hand. The woman, sighing in relief to herself, turned to see the blade nearly shoved in her face, and appropriately reacted, exclaiming, angry.

"The hell…!" Her hand lashed out, with quicker reflexes than Gabryl would ever expect from another person, and wrenched the scythe out of his hands. It was flung down the alley with an effortless toss, and clashed against the tightly-spaced walls and asphalt, sparks spraying off. They both watched it sail away, Gabryl suddenly coming under the impression that this Reaper was much more powerful than he, only to remember that that same unknown was standing right there, and most likely angry at him. He turned his head an inch to see her, only to feel his body lurched forward, his wrist gripped and used to yank up the rest of him so that they were eye level. She had to have been no more than a couple inches taller than him, though, so the increase in height wasn't much. The woman however, did not have her focus on height, and rather narrowed her eyes towards the Keychain hanging from Gabryl's clenched fist. He had no idea why the item would be so important to her, since if anything it should have meant more to Lucre, yet, after scanning the metal piece on the end thoroughly, her agitated gaze made its way back to her captive. With that, the strength shown before made another example of Gabryl, as it felt like his assailant was attempting to snap his hand clean off. He let out a sharp breath, and lost his hold on the Keychain, letting it fall.

Her orange eyes, nearly radiating some explosive emotion, followed the descending emblem, and she caught it in mid-air, letting it come to rest on her palm. they flicked back up to Gabryl's face. He stared back, frightened by the evident, terrifying physical capabilities she may have. Blood pulsing from anxiety, he blinked. And it was when his eyes had opened not a moment later, that Gabryl saw the world flying past him, or perhaps him flying through it. He felt his cheek skid across the wet pavement, and bleed onto it; the coldness adding to the stinging on raw skin. He staggered to sit up, coughing, trying to find the breath that he lost, and wasn't surprised to see her, with a fist still raised, holding the Keychain in the other hand. What did surprise Gabryl is that her punch didn't tear right through his stomach, but had no doubt in him that a considerable bruise would be left. That, or he wouldn't be able to properly digest anything for the next week.

Following up her offense, catching Gabryl off guard as he reflected on his dark humor, she made another move at speeds that he couldn't comprehend. Jumping, or more accurately, lunging into the air, her wings fanned out to keep her balanced and almost floating as one foot came down on his chest to push him to his back, half-standing on him. Gabryl was once again searching for the connection from his mouth to his lung when a streak of black appeared in front of his face. A scythe, he knew, because of that way it was summoned to her. It was different though; the metal darker, almost black like the smoke that beckoned it. To make it appear even more distinct, was that the normally curved blade was jagged, coming to a sharp, angled point. Just like Gabryl's, however, another shorter section of blade protruded from the opposite side of the longer counterpart. He couldn't see any spike on the far end, like his, but from the uncomfortable position Gabryl was in he found that he had wasted enough time staring at what may go through his skull in a matter of minutes. His mouth opened once, slightly, to let out a gasp, another cough from the recoil, but she spoke before he could begin to form words.

"Where did _you,_" She shook the Keychain, it jingled, "get this?" Gabryl grunted, and didn't know why he was having a conversation with a person that only managed to manhandle him in the time they had been together. He felt more pressure exerted on his chest when he didn't answer.

"I-" He choked for a second when the words came out, and she nearly growled out of impatience. "…Found it on the ground." Having said something out of impulse, without thinking, he realized how stupid that sounded. Her heel dug into his chest, and he could feel it bruising.

"No. The person who owns this wouldn't just drop it-"

"Well, they did!" Again, he gagged, and Gabryl grasped her ankle, trying to pull it off. "The Reaper. He was running. He lost it." He focused more on her leg, but as gripped onto it more, he couldn't even feel any muscles tightened in it. Was it possible she wasn't even trying to hold him down now? How weak exactly, was Gabryl, in comparison to others?

"You're lying." The woman was blunt, but with reason for not believing what seemed like such a shallow story.

"It's what happened!" Gabryl sneered. "Then…then that Angel came and, he, um…" Starring back up, he saw a sudden softness appear in her eyes. The moment he mentioned the Angel, in fact, Gabryl could sense it in her; there was something she firmly believed in, or knew, that had been cut short. He was definitely used to this sort of reaction, having seen it in the eyes of people seeing loved ones stabbed or cut up otherwise. It came as a shock to Gabryl, though, to see it in this woman, with such physical domination over him.

"Dead…" She murmured, quietly, morosely, lifting her foot off of Gabryl. "He's…dead. Right?" She spoke to the wall that she was facing, giving Gabryl the freedom to move without fear of having his movements predicted.

He gave a slow nod, and even though she couldn't have seen the person sitting behind her, she nodded back. She didn't really need an answer though, and knew how Gabryl would respond. Him having mentioned the Angel was all that she needed, and the pieces could be put together easily for someone with her experience.

Her scythe disappeared without any gesture or expression, and her eyes closed, sighing. However, Gabryl felt as though he was out of some big loops, all revolving around Angels and those chain things. First he inferred that the chains were special, probably meant to protect Reapers, or maybe anyone in general, from them. If Lucre hadn't lost that Keychain, he'd be alive right now, living on what he could steal. He would have escaped into the crowd and never been seen by Gabryl again. Gabryl would have never had a run-in with this woman. He'd still be alone.

Just considering the chain of coincidences, and how these circumstances had come together made his head spin. Was he really benefiting from the death of another like this? Gabryl had gone and killed so many in the past, but they had just been random people. Never once had someone dying actually made him get anywhere, or helped him, or really do anything else outside of driving him into his depression. He brought a hand to his dirtied cheek, wincing as he wiped off blood. Gabryl noticed that he was scared. But, was he scared of having, in effect, killed someone important? No, and neither was he afraid of doing so again. Sure, he was slightly afraid of the woman that could break his neck in a second if she wanted to, but what affected Gabryl most deeply right now, was that he was involved in something. Gabryl thought of his only two instances of human contact before today, both being with Angels. He had always known there was something bigger going on, but never did he try to figure it out or look into it. The relation he had with Angels meant nothing to him until now. Now he knew they were the bad guys, and that other Reapers, if not also bad, were at least oppressed to some extent. Gabryl had learned, and saw that he was the cause of something, and that there were outcomes to be had that would directly affect him. It was frightening in a way he would never expect, but it was also so exhilarating.

Answers would be appreciated, but even this long-awaited adrenaline wouldn't tell Gabryl how to communicate with others. Struggling with words earlier as he was stuck on his back, he hadn't even been sure if he remember how to speak. However, he would need to learn how if he was going to get anywhere with this. It had been a long and confusing day, and Gabryl wasn't about to let it go to waste.

"So…what, um, exactly is that chain thing…?" The words came out about as badly as he imagined.

She turned, giving him a look of pure distaste. Her striking orange eyes still kept themselves narrowed on Gabryl, and preoccupied herself by stringing the chain around her fingers. Opening her mouth a few times, finding her own right words, she gave a deep sigh, eyes going from Gabryl, down to the Keychain he asked about. It was evident she was angry towards Gabryl, for reasons he wasn't completely sure of, but without going into the rage she had before. Her eyes closed, and she sighed once more before speaking.

"You don't…know anything, do you?"

Gabryl looked perplexed, and wondered if he had just been insulted. The woman let the Keychain unravel off of her hand, holding it with her thumb and forefinger, in front of her for Gabryl to see. She bit her lip, and when she wasn't fixated on looking at it with him, she was fighting herself from letting her gaze settle near the thing. Perhaps the hate she was showing was more towards the item between them, than Gabryl.

"…It's a Keychain. We use them, so the Angels can't detect us." She brought a hand to her face, eyes closed more tightly now. "You really don't know?"

Still absent minded, Gabryl shook his head. His sensitive, childish subconscious, having deteriorated form his loneliness, was jumping up and down in the back of his mind. Was there more he would learn about? More Reapers to meet? That side of him couldn't wait to hear more. The logical part knew how critically things would change, and how dangerous the outcome would be.

"There are more Reapers with those things?" He shrank back when she nodded, feeling dumb. He clutched his stomach, it hadn't been convulsing periodically like normal. No urges. It only added to the excitement. He pondered the connections, though, and then the possibilities; if Angels couldn't see them when the had the Keychain things, then there was so much more he could do, and so much freedom he could have. Gabryl looked down to his hands, which had been stained in blood so many times in the past. For all he knew, they would never have to touch the color red ever again after today.

"Here, just…" She was clearly in no mood to talk, or even knock Gabryl around like before. Was it because Lucre was that important? She sighed and turned. "We'll go there."

Her wings, which Gabryl paid little mind to all this time, to his surprised, stretched out, wide enough that they were cramped in the alley, prompting her to turn parallel to the walls. She flapped them once to begin levitating into the air, and Gabryl watched on in awe. It was childish wonder, immediately followed by fear of being left behind. He stepped forward, almost under her, shouting.

"Hey! I can't…!" There was a look of distress on him.

She looked back, annoyed, with a frown, only to meet Gabryl's expression of worry. The body language shared between the two was short-lived and blatant. Gabryl saw her motion with a shoulder, inviting him along. She became further troubled upon seeing his disdained look, afraid of being left behind for being of no use; he couldn't fly like that, and until today didn't know that Reapers could even have wings. She huffed, easing herself back down in front of him, landing lightly but making a show of stomping the ground to show how upset she was. Having made a show of that, she pivoted right on her heel and made haste towards the street, barely any traffic present at this hour. Gabryl hurried after, all the while wondering why he didn't have wings himself; and watched as she folded her own, and wasn't sure if it was through some subconscious movement or if it was like having two other arms. The appendages came together, black feathers very similar, if not the same as her raven hair, and then seemingly merged into her back, Reaper-styled smoke rising off. No pain or discomfort was expressed, impressing Gabryl, who watched as Leyla predicted car movements, preferring to cross here than waste her time at an intersection.

All the while, he was wishing he was as fortunate as her to have wings. Gabryl could only imagine they would be useful for getting around the large town with its crowded sidewalks and buses. And with this convenience, he'd be able to feel that cool, moist wind in his face, and have a front row seat of the perpetual twilight. He was sure it would be more beautiful when he wasn't getting shoved out of the way every ten seconds or so. Being able to explore everything, without the burden of his daily killing sprees; he urged to have that fantasy come to life. Fantasizing, Gabryl almost missed following his companion as she crossed the street when a the walk signal flickered on. He took the opportunity to speak, to pass time and patch things up between them.

"So, um." He began, catching up, and walking alongside her, to the woman's discontent. Just hearing his voice was enough for her to cross her arms and sigh.

"Can I have a name to work with?" Gabryl chirped, albeit timidly, seeing her new pose.

"Leyla." She spoke quietly and without formality, leaving the air between the two stale and a little awkward. He expected some kind of follow-up to that, but was glad he knew what to call her.

"Mine is Gabryl." He stated, more wholeheartedly, not trying to demean her like she may have been doing to him before. However, even though he managed to give her this information, she didn't exactly show any thanks for it, and simply stared blankly, gaze shifting from eye level to the sidewalk ahead.

"…In case you wanted to know." He pulled at his shirt collar, uncomfortably, feeling some sweat on his knuckles. Gabryl could tell that Leyla wasn't the kind of person who was very sociable, or was fun to talk to even when she did speak. To his surprise, Gabryl found that her apparent attempts to make him feel down was in fact working, as he didn't feel like asking many more questions. He felt intimidated, sure, but impressed.

Still, Gabryl was excited, to a very held back extent. Leyla was taking him to some meeting place, he had inferred, of other Reapers. And not just any, but informed Reapers that knew how to get around these rules created to bind them. Gabryl had never felt so hopeful in so long, and could have smiled at the thought of his escape being blocks away. The only reason, of course, to suppress this urge was because of the melancholy girl near him. He'd reap the benefits of his new situation later, perhaps with a more celebratory bunch. Trying to think of these happier things, Gabryl glanced over to Leyla, who walked without distraction of the world around her, unflinching, with the same preciseness she had used to subdue him earlier. It was a feature, he noted, that made her desirable in a way, though he would take no actions on that small observation; any sort of romance or relationship was not in his agenda. If anything, his isolation made him crave a friend alone, than anything more. Besides, what semblance of love could come from their roaming of the afterlife? He realized he was still scanning her, and brought his eyes back to the town in front of him before she noticed, thinking of what she would do to him should she catch a person staring like that. He decided any form of attractiveness Leyla had was heavily shadowed by her somber tone, and frightening attitude. Her face, darkened by rings under her eyes, didn't add to anything. Those eyes, that would normally be so intriguing to look at. Under these circumstances he was afraid to look at all; it made her look demonic, instead of bringing up any beauty, as eyes of that spectacular color should. He shrugged that off as a first impression gone awry. Stealing the Keychain he found didn't help her case, though. Final impression? A bully.

But, these Keychains, there must be more of them. Hundreds more even, than the one that Leyla was holding now, and there must be enough that Gabryl could have his own as well. What if he could just walk up, and take one of them, no questions asked? His torments gone and nightmares settled, in one moment, just like that. It almost put a smile on the face of a man usually saddened and gloomy, just like the sky above him. Enough lamenting, though, he just wanted to get to their destination, like a child wanting a gift at Christmas; but it really did mean that much to him. He couldn't stress that enough ,going over it again and again in his mind. In this rare time of happiness, the bells from the Chapel Hearts church rang over Twilight Town, the couple who were almost on the other side of the town. Gabryl craned his neck back to see the bell tower, over the trees of the distant park, as they gave their last ring. The sixteenth.

Without a functioning watch, and without constant sunlight, Gabryl usually relied on the chimes to tell him the general time; it was nearing the evening, and the hidden sun would soon set. as the encounter with Leyla lasted an hour. The bells fading, added to the peacefulness of this far-out area of the town, allowed Gabryl to hear another familiar noise; that of the Keychain, being handled by Leyla, as she moved it into her pocket. He wondered why, watching it fall into the pocket of her long, black jacket. Her eyes would dart down periodically, as if to make sure it was still there, in the fold of fabric. There was really no reason for there not to be, her clothing looked new and secure, without holes like Lucre. It was a long, black, billowy jacket that went past her waist. Silver drawstrings would tighten the baggy hood, should she decide to wear it. Between Gabryl, Leyla, and Lucre, Gabryl had to wonder if all Reapers dressed in such dark, depressingly-colored clothing. Shrugging it off as coincidence, a more pertinent question came to mind.

"Leyla."

She didn't look like she wanted to listen, but gave a short glance to have him continue.

"If those Keychains don't let them- the Angels, see us, and you were running at me before…" Gabryl saw her pace falter for a moment, but keep pace. "You seemed in kind of a rush, so," An eye twitches, from both individuals actually, "I mean, did you not have…?" She increased her pace, keeping her voice soft.

"My Keychain wasn't with me, but there's good reason." Gabryl caught up to her, breathing a little heavy. He'd normally go at a more relaxing walking speed. Eyes on her, waiting for her to keep talking, he gave a bit of a motion with his hand, which was caught in her peripheral.

"What? I told you. Not having it doesn't…it doesn't reflect on me or anything." Gabryl was becoming more and more suspicious that either these Keychains were much more special than he originally thought, or that Leyla here, was quite paranoid about things. Either way, he wasn't exactly feeling welcome into the apparent inner circle of Reapers that existed, and was hoping the rest of them wouldn't lash out at him like her. He dismissed her defensive comments, and looked up at the sky as it darkened turned more purple than gray. Gabryl also noticed that they were nearly out of Twilight Town itself, in more rural areas, with the buildings decreasing in size, but not in the best of conditions. Trees were also more abundant. Traversing an intersection, Gabryl huffed a hushed breath when they made it to the other side, ignoring a man who bumped into him, obviously not seeing the invisible, dead person, and he sighed. The are was now much more wooded than the rest of Twilight Town, with tall trees almost touching the low clouds. With their branches only fanning out near the top, it was just like another layer to block the sun rays. At least it being nature made it look a little nicer. They stepped onto the old and cracked concrete, grass peeking out of the fissures, and turned right, going in the same direction as before. The buildings were darker and aged, some hidden in shadows, so Gabryl didn't see their destination come near.

"We're here." Leyla said abruptly, snapping Gabryl out of his trance he was in, taking in the unfamiliar environment, and he looked up at the building in front of him. It was not the most impressive thing he had ever seen. It was a large mansion, albeit a little better-looking than the other buildings on the street, but it didn't seem to be very well taken care of. Yellow stone and dark shingles made up structure, chipping off in places. It had a second story, where a few windows were lit by some dim source. One or two were even cracked, with some surrounded by dry vegetation crawling up. It looked old, but carried the aura that it was once a more extravagant place, ravaged by time and lack of housekeeping.

They approached the tall double doors, but Gabryl couldn't help but recognize the place faintly. He may have very well walked by this place before, or on multiple occasions, but the real reason for not recalling it was probably because of it not even having a sign on it; no name to speak of. A large wooden board, meant to be some kind of sign, hung by chains, in the shape of a three-pointed crown. It too was old, but Gabryl had no idea what it could represent. Probably just a symbol, or maybe some kind of invisible Reaper ink. A humorous notion, but he was not too sure how ridiculous it was. Leyla didn't give the sign any notice, and gave the door a strong pull, neglecting to hold it open for the man who had been trailing behind, absorbing the strange scenery.

The interior was crowded with people, crammed into the large lobby at round wooden tables. The place had insufficient lighting, leaving some corners dark and dusty, though the latter applied the rest of the lobby as well. Two staircases, winding to the second floor, a balcony that went around the edge of the rectangular room, began at two ends of the room near the back and arched over a glass doorway. The glass in question dirty and yellow, making it almost impossible to see through. Gabryl imagined that it went outside. There were different age groups, races, and of obvious differing social statuses, and Gabryl had to wonder if all the people like these were really Reapers, if all of them were dead, and brought back reap hearts by just some chance. It occurred to Gabryl that this place was more than any meeting grounds, but some kind of cheap hotel or inn designed to even house the many Reapers in the town, or outside of it. A place like this would definitely solve his dilemma of having a permanent living space, so perhaps Leyla was going to try and find him a room? She led him to a long desk on their immediate left, where a man sat. He was in front of a tall series of shelves and cabinets, all crammed full of records and documents, probably in regards to those staying there and the keeping of the building. He was currently writing on a clipboard, making numerous marks and checking up on other papers to confirm those marks. Seemed like a boring job, despite the undead acting as your tenants. Gabryl's mind wandered on how that could really make any significance though, and eventually came to realize that the owner himself must be a Reaper.

Both stood in front of the checkout desk, the managed not making any acknowledgment of the pair. Gabryl raised a hand to try and capture his attention, but Leyla was able to do so wordlessly, slipping a hand inside her coat and pulling out the Keychain by one of the small links. The jingle from its movement had the man meet her eyes, bold orange ones, just like her own.

"Ah, Leyla," his deep voice expressed a kind of hopefulness, and he placed his work carefully to a concealed shelf under the desk, "so you've found him-" Clearing his throat, he cut himself off as he looked over to Gabryl, who just stood awkwardly. He had no idea how to present himself, or what to say. "Or not."

"I, er, found him." She tried to explain, simultaneously handing over the Keychain. The man took it in both hands like second nature, tucking it in his own pocket. Had that actually belonged to him? The man was old, obviously, and didn't seem like the type to get out much. His face showed signs of wrinkles starting to come in, and his hair line had receded a little, though it still retained a fine blonde color. Leyla seemed to be respecting him regardless of age, however, as she formed her words sluggishly.

"Yeah. New kid. Found him when I saw him holding…that." She nodded towards the Keychain, and he gave an uneasy look towards both. He looked down, opening his cupped hands to observe the object, and then back to Leyla, who he stared at sternly.

"But not him, hmm?

"…No." She shook her head in small spasms, letting her own eyes drift towards the floor. There was some sort of understanding between them that Gabryl knew he wasn't getting, and didn't know if he wanted to know. He had the suspicion they were speaking of Lucre.

"I'm sorry." He sighed. Yep, Gabryl thought, there was definitely something he was not aware of. His own gaze went back and forth between the two, before setting on the man, who finally paid him full attention. "I imagine we will have to set you up some place?"

Gabryl nodded, and felt his tension lessen. The single sentence aimed at him made him feel like he wasn't an alien. The inn manager stood up, with fine posture, and turned to a drawer, rummaging through it. Gabryl's eyes snapped to him as he heard more jingling, expecting a Keychain to be handed to him. Rather, it was a large iron ring with a number of keys hanging off it, which dampened his excitement, but gave him the positive prospect of having a bed to call his own. A key was hooked off and handed to Gabryl, to which he mouthed a shy, silent thank you.

"It will be to the left of your own, Leyla. Show him the way, and come back down. We'll have a talk about what happened." He scratched the hair on his chin, saying it in a tone that Gabryl thought a parent would take when about to scold their child, except they try to make it sound like a discussion, getting their hopes up in that they would have a fair say. Leyla did not make it seem this way though, and nodded, giving a slight smile that last less than a moment.

"Thank you, Ansem." She turned, beckoning Gabryl to follow by sweeping her hand over her shoulder. He followed fervently, giving a timid wave to the innkeeper, who just sat back down to his paperwork. What had happened couldn't have been a normal conversation between to friends, he thought, but he remember enough about having a social life to know it would be rude to ask about it. He simply sighed and caught up to her, fondling the key in one hand, and gathered the courage to ask his more pertinent question.

"Leyla, will I…do you think I could maybe…" He stammered, to his surprise, but his voice gained a little more enthusiasm as he went on. Leyla on the other hand gritted her teeth at his voice, preoccupied with other thoughts.

"Yes?" She spoke with some false brightness. Gabryl tugged at his shirt collar, and felt sweat like before.

"…Will I get a Keychain of my own? I mean, if you, and Lucre-" Leyla winced when he said the name, "had one, does that mean I could too?"

Contemplating, she tried to muster the kindest, and most truthful, answer possible.

"You…might. It could happen. There are some available ones I guess, but I don't know if anyone is too delighted to just hand them out."

Gabryl's encouragement faltered at her words, and the glint that had appeared in his eyes died down just a little. Blue eyes that had gotten a little more brighter that day. Leyla had to admit that it was rare to see a color like that. She shook her head and ignored any admirations she had of the boy, he was new and wouldn't be worth anything until he grew to know the place. She led him up the left-hand staircase, and down a hallway on the same side. Conversations and shouts and a television broadcast echoed. Leyla stopped to the side of one door, more than half way down, and stood next to it, inviting Gabryl use his key, which he did, fiddling shortly with the old lock. As he entered the dark room, he immediately smelled wet wood, probably from the material the old place was built of combined with the eternal rain. He was able to reach the outline of a bed and sat down on it, feeling the thick flannel blanket, which he promptly laid down on. Gabryl hadn't noticed how tired he really was from the days events, and almost fell asleep before Leyla drew the curtains to the side of the creaky bed, filling the room with overcast-blocked light.

"Alright, you're settled." She drawled, turning away and making for the door. "I don't plan on seeing you until the morning. Just ask Ansem for anything in the meantime." It was still fairly early too, so she must be busy, or perhaps just wanted to lose the newbie that was essentially dead weight. Ah well. Gabryl would be sleeping from now until the next morning anyway, having his nightmares under the comfort of knowing that he would be having them in his own bed. He twisted his body and patted down the pillow, and looked up back to Leyla, standing in the doorway.

"Hey, how am I supposed to pay for all this, exactly?" He cracked his neck, and she rolled her eyes back in thought.

"Oh, well, Ansem supports us. Reapers get a considerable discount." She smirked to herself. "Plus, I'm sure he'll go easy on you, since you just moved in. Funds are hard to come by for us."

The corner of his mouth twitched, and his finger circled on the blanket.

"I…have to make money?" The most Gabryl ever remembered doing was stealing a few dollars from the homes or wallets of people he killed, and that was just to get by. Barely, at that. He wasn't crazy about stealing, but apparently that was how Reapers like Lucre got by. Unless that was what she meant? Did all Reapers steal? Leyla could tell he was thinking over his financial future and put a hand on the doorknob, preparing to leave and disgrace him.

"Look, you obviously don't know much about being a Reaper-"

"But, I've been one for years!" He leaned forward, wearing a face of contempt and worry.

"Alright, alright." Another disgruntled sigh from her. "Whatever. Years or not, things will change for you, so you'll have to get used to it. I'll show you around, introduce you to some others, maybe those that can handle you." She gripped the doorknob a little tighter, letting her eyes settle on his. It occurred to her that rather than trying to just get him off her back, she was in fact coming off as a bit too mean. "Look, I just don't normally walk around with anyone new. We'll take care of all that tomorrow. I need rest, and I need to talk things over with some others. It may not occur to you, but you were probably the only person to see someone who a lot of people cared about, get murdered."

No, it really hadn't occurred to Gabryl that Lucre was special. Of course he wished he could have spoken to him, but death was just so routine that ultimately the death itself was easy to forget. Sure there was the moral aspect of it, but most of it was forgettable. He had made a mistake there.

"S-Sorry…" Gabryl slowly put his head back to the pillow, closing his eyes. "Tell, um, Ansem I said thank you. I'm tired." He spoke in his old, depressed, bored tone, but Leyla actually saw nothing wrong with it.

"Alright, you don't have to get up early or anything, not like anyone's in a rush. Do whatever the hell you want, just come and see me at some point." She stressed the last part, maybe responsibility meant something to her. Overall her voice had lightened up though, which unnerved Gabryl. Was she happier for making him sad, and expressing her discontent? And he was just warming up to her, too.

Gabryl's eyes closed tighter, and he put a hand over his chest. He didn't feel like undressing, as he could feel his mind drifting off to sleep by the time he realized he was still wearing his clothes. Gabryl expected that he would never get to sleep after everything he had discovered today, too, yet slumber eventually took him, much to his relief. Snoring lightly, sprawling out as the hours rolled by, subconsciously some part of him would twitch every time the sound of a jingle made its way into his room.


	3. Longing

Not sure what else to say. Thought it was about time I'd put the new chapter up, for anyone who may be reading and keeping up. Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave a review, no matter what you have to say. I'm fully accepting of compliments, criticisms, of if you just want to say hello. Enjoy chapter three.

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III - Longing

Leyla quietly stepped down the hallway, heels touching the floor lightly. She stopped when she reached the balcony that overlooked the lobby; there was hardly anyone there, and saw only a couple tables occupied. Not as if there were likely to be more, though. It was past midnight, so the majority of the people staying at the inn would be fast asleep, and like she expected, she was not one of them. Her eyes wouldn't stay shut whenever she would lie down, and when they did, it only made it easier for painful memories to come to her. Leyla gripped the railing and made her way down, attempting not to lose her balance from incurable drowsiness. The steps creaked, causing a few heads that were awake to turn up towards her, who only had the noises of the desolate streets outside before she arrived. Only two pairs of eyes stayed on her.

She reached a familiar table, shoved against the staircase she had just descended, and sat at a chair already pulled out. She slouched while crossing one leg over the other, and sunk in her seat. It was, really, an unbecoming habit of a women with her looks. Orange eyes rolled up to the two sitting on the other side of the circular table, both leaning back in similar exhaustion, but without the same depression. Neither paid much mind to her, as Leyla's insomnia was something they had learned to deal with, but they were not above acknowledgment. There were however, above initiating it.

"Are we too old for hello's now?" Leyla muttered, half-sarcastically, pulling off a glove with diligence, then laying it gently on the table. Beginning to work on the right hand, one of the two spoke out, Raimyd. Of the three present, he was the newest.

"Nah, we just didn't want to break the ambiance." He smirked to himself, then looked up. "You know the weather can be a downer, but hi."

She smiled a little, which was not a rare feat in the company of friends. It was to her knowledge that Raimyd was a fan of sunshine and a warmer climate, as he had moved to Twilight Town from some place in the south shortly before dying here. It was very fortunate that he made acquaintances, not knowing how to live off the city like Gabryl did, a native to the town. Leyla realized it must get to him when the clouds act like a permanent ceiling. Some continual sun, at least for a couple days, wouldn't kill anyone, after all. The irony in that thought hit her a moment later.

"Not to mention it's about one, girl. You should be getting some sleep, you know you deserve some rest right now."

Both glanced at the third party member, Medea, sitting defiantly taller, dark-skinned, with her equally dark hair hanging over an eye. Leyla scowled, not wild about having others telling her what her priorities should be in the position she was in.

"Maybe I wasn't tired. Couldn't sleep."

"Or maybe you were thinking about him too much." Medea kept a serious look, whilst the other girl just closed her eyes, sighing. Raimyd's eyes flicked between both.

"By the way, we heard. We're very sorry for your loss." He rose an eyebrow on the second half of the apology, though it was more like an exaggerated statement. Sympathy was not either of the three's forte. However, this was probably because it was directed more towards the woman seated next to him, who acted a little more blunt. Raimyd recomposed himself, and tapped the table with a finger to get Leyla's attention. She kept her eyes closed though. "Any word on what happened out on the field? All Ansem told us was about Lucre."

Leyla sucked in her breath, taking hold of the arms of her chair and pushing herself up straight. She set an elbow on the table, on the palm of which she rested her chin. Half-opened eyes looked at the tabletop, covered in rings from drinks being set on them, and she reviewed the day. It came to her attention that she had ignored most of it, except for Lucre's death and the general existence of the new Reaper she found. His name was not even clear in her mind yet.

"I, um." She sat up straight, it wasn't very comfortable speaking like that. "Found a new guy while I was out. A Reaper." She added on that last bit when Raimyd gave her a strange look, but he became more inquisitive than double-minded.

"Oh, yeah. Saw him with you when you got back. How is he?"

She winced a little, and tried to remember. Oh, that's right. He was completely incompetent.

"His name is Gabryl, and the kid's just…he's been dead for some time apparently and he's just a blank slate. Doesn't know anything. Couldn't even fly." She rolled her eyes, but her audience was a little more tolerant.

"Well, maybe the right circumstances to learn never came." Medea noted logically. She knew that Leyla was upset, but she didn't need to take it out on the new guy. She was also becoming suspicious that the coincidence in her finding this Gabryl character after learning of Lucre's death might be having some effect on her. One that was clearly damaging how she saw this kid. Medea decided she would supervise the relationship, and make sure he that he won't get scarred. Leyla's increasing scowl foreshadowed her doing so, though.

"It's just…he's so stupid…" She buried her face back into her hand.

"Sleep'll help you, hon."

"I…can't." She crossed her arms on the table and her head collapsed into them. Some inaudible mumbles were absorbed into the wood. The three sat in the flickering, haunting candlelight from above, not noticing the handful of people wandering around, up and down the stairs, until a familiar, blue-cloaked figure made its way down the stairs on the opposite side of the room. His choice of clothing, coupled with his bright hair made him stand out. Ansem headed towards the group without a second glance, holding an ice cream bar out towards Leyla. It was bright blue, almost like his clothing, and he held the flat stick with his thumb and forefinger, staring down her downtrodden self. She lifted her head, sensing his presence, but shook her head when she saw the dessert presented to her. Normally she would feel bad about turning down his favorite treat, but she was in no mood.

"It's sweet. It might help your spirits." Ansem reasoned, in an attempt to help her, having talked down an initial rage from earlier. He knew she had decided though, and let Raimyd take the ice cream, much to the latter's enjoyment.

"Or it'll just rub salt in the wound…" Her head went back in her arms. Medea leaned forward to pat her arm in comfort. It was then Raimyd's turn to try and console her, and he spoke between the laps he took at the ice cream.

"Well." He licked. "Maybe now you can work on your own, right Ansem? I mean, wouldn't be right to just go and replace Lucre like that." His mind stayed on the concept of partnerships, waiting from some sign of approval from the old blonde man. "Unless that means I'm with the newbie." He bit a chunk of the ice cream off, and narrowed his eyes towards Leyla. "Eh, then he can stay with you."

Medea brought the back of her hand to the side of his head, almost causing him to loose a grip on the stick, but he just gripped it tighter in response. Leering at her, he fixed his hair, blonde, draping over his ears and past his jaw.

"Shush it, Rai."

"I'm just saying. I'm not, um, 'qualified' enough to handle him anyway, am I?" There was a look of satisfaction on his face, feeling as though he had gotten out of watching over Gabryl, and he licked silently. The rest were not as entertained as he was.

"I will have to work on the pairings, yes, but Leyla, you most likely won't be working directly with anyone. Perhaps you four can make up a fine group."

As he predicted, all three of them gave some semblance of a pout, and shifted uncomfortably, at the mention of a fourth joining them. While Leyla's bias towards Gabryl was clear, Raimyd and Medea hid their own better. They too were on close terms with Lucre, and did not want someone to replace him, and so soon. They hoped would be capable of accepting him faster than Leyla was, and that she wouldn't lash out too hard at the kid. They had both integrity and a person to keep safe, and said this to each other, wordless, giving a slight nod. Raimyd bit down on the bare stick, and Leyla stood, staring outside through the glass doors, between the stairs. Nothing inspiring came from the stars that were barely visible, like she had hoped. Wasn't looking up to the sky for some kind of assistance the cliché thing that always helped?

"You know what. Sleep sounds fine right now. In fact, I wouldn't mind locking myself up in my room and not waking up for years. Maybe someone will wake me when _everyone _I know is dead. Then I can just start over, no pressure." There was a strange hysteria in her voice. Almost threatening. She turned on her heel, making haste towards the stairs, and not trying to quiet her movements like she had coming down. Ansem stood in place, but wore a mask of concern. Raimyd worried of Gabryl screwing up everything. Medea contemplated an unstable Leyla.

Gabryl dreamt.

He studied his surroundings. They were fairly familiar, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Said finger, and clothing, were splattered in blood, which shocked Gabryl more in that he could not remember attacking anyone rather than the presence of it. He touched his stained arm with his other hand, but it was dry, and by how much it had set into his sleeve, Gabryl assumed that he had not washed his clothes in days. Odd, since he preferred to stay clean. There was next to no memory of this in his mind, but then why did he feel like he had been through this before? Gabryl knew this had to be a dream, since he was previously in a room assigned to him in a badly-kept hotel room. Therefore he reasoned it was a reoccurring dream, which would cause the feeling of familiarity. Gabryl tried to sit up, grunting, his limbs feeling like iron weights, and his joints stone. He had to have dreamt this before, but dreams that one experience over and over are not usually good ones. Maybe this would be a rare case, or it would be some kind of haunting event that was going to replay in his subconscious. Then again, something that important would not be forgotten so easily. His attempt at applying logic hurt his head, and all this deduction took place only over a matter of seconds. The seconds after jogged his mind.

Forcing his heavy limbs to lift himself, his eyes suddenly widened in shock, and every nerve in his body sent messages to his brain at once, all of which were signals of pain, agony, and excruciating hurt.

"Gah…ah…!" He choked. His initial exclamation quickly diminished as his body became too exhausted to make any noise. Gabryl's voice just stopped working, and he feared his breathing would as well if he kept up the physical strain. He had to ignore the screaming in his brain long enough to focus on stopping his body from torturing itself, and somehow his will to stand up ceased, the result of which caused his writhing body to crash back to the chair. Rasped breaths escaped his burning throat. He was afraid to try to speak. The pain still remained, though, and he coincidentally remembered why he had not left the chair in so long.

Gabryl tightened his eyes shut, as if to hide from the pain, but it was the worst behind his eyes, in his head. No, in fact, it seemed to be pulsating between his brain and abdomen. The moment he noticed the pain in his stomach was the moment it burned more than anywhere else. He wanted to vomit from the built up nausea of the situation. Why did it hurt so bad, was it from hunger? It felt like he hadn't eaten, but there were many food wrappers scattered about the room. That couldn't have been it, so Gabryl racked his memory some more. Eating seemed like it would be a good suppressant, as the pain felt like that of hunger, or that his body simply needed something. That sour, lurching feeling dominated every fiber of his being now, and he wished the food had worked. He cursed the agony he was in, and hated this feeling. It was a familiar feeling. In fact, it was the one that plagued him every day.

Gabryl blinked, and the pain was gone. He could turn his head freely, and stretch his arms out any way he liked. A smile of great relief filled his face before he noticed how weightless he felt, and looked down. Gabryl was hovering over the scene he had just been reliving, and floated just above the dream version of him. His smile wavered, but now he was himself again, with all the memories returned, and he knew exactly what was playing out before him.

The Gabryl sitting on the comfortable, blood-stained armchair who was still experiencing immense physical torture was himself from about a year and a half earlier. This Gabryl didn't know about being a Reaper as much as he did now, and had only just learned to cope with the fact that he had died a few months before. Unfortunately, this was not that case of his job to kill people, which he loathed and was horrified of. Young Gabryl could not be warned of the penalties for not fulfilling his duty, and his sense of righteousness was too strong to allow himself to kill just so he could feel a little bit better. The present Gabryl sighed as he recalled what would happen next, and wished his old self had figured out to overlook such morals early on.

A bright light flashed in the space in front of the chair, instantaneously forming a blinding column of whiteness. As Gabryl brought an arm to cover his eyes, he watched his younger self struggle to do the same. The light dimmed, and a person stood in its place, still radiating heat from whatever power it took to teleport him to their location. An older, more rationalized Gabryl knew who this was on a much less terrified note, as well as gaining some extra familiarity to the mannerisms of an Angel he had learned the previous day. Young Gabryl had no way to recognize the Angel before him however, for when he had first met an Angel, it was him going to them.

The Angel, drastically different than the one who confronted Gabryl more recently, took a step forward. He rotated his shoulders and cracked his neck, staring down the new Reaper with malice. At least, that is what one would assume was in his eyes, for this Angel was completely masked. A black-colored helmet concealed his head and any distrainable features above his neck. More black, combined with red, made up a strange suit that covered the rest of his body, making it look more muscular and almost demon-like. This entire getup though, was contrasted by his own Angel wings, which were stark white and thin, covering the width of his back by only so much. It was an odd sight, but reminded Gabryl that Angels were but stronger, higher-ranked Reapers. A change in color and a few flashy special effects didn't completely hide that fact. The Keyblade, in place of a scythe, which the angel now held directly at young Gabryl's face, confirmed his theory on this. Knowing how similar they were was a strange comfort.

The Keyblade in question was red and black, like its owner, and looked to be made up of fragments of cogs strung together. It bobbed and waved in his grip, much like his head, which told Gabryl that he was speaking to his dream self, who of course was too scared to respond. Gabryl sighed, and crossed his arms behind his head, leaning back in, He knew that the rest of this scene would be nothing, just the Angel scarring him for nearly the rest of his afterlife, prompting multiple dreams just like this one. He would make sure that Gabryl would break no more rules, and that resisting the killing impulses would only result in his erasure. Gabryl tilted his head forward, and froze. The Angel was right in front of him now, pointing the Keyblade to his nose from a perspective he had not been in before. Normally this was an out of body experience for Gabryl, but now he we genuinely afraid of what was happening, for the first time in a year an a half. The dream was to end here, wasn't it? He kept thinking this, hoping it would become reality. It did not. In an instant that felt like it took forever, the Keyblade became a sphere of light in the Angel's hand. It glowed ominously and slowly increased in size just like it had in the hand of the Angel in front of Lucre. Gabryl, trying to move, only felt his arms glued to the arms of the chair, and the rest of his body too heavy. He felt sweat on his forehead. His breath shortened. He was experiencing the one event that had sickened him more than anything; Lucre's death. The Angel raised his hand above Gabryl's vision, and he could only just see the object of his doom shine upon him, casting a horrible glare in the mask in front of him. He felt like he could see his assailant's face for a mere second, but that meant nothing. He was done for. The glow blinded his vision, and sheer white dominated his vision before he blacked out.

Then Gabryl awoke. His mouth was agape, having said in his sleep what he could not in the dream, with arms half-raised over the bed. He waved them around, taking pleasure in the freedom to move them, and brought two fingers to his forehead. Sweat. Plenty of it, which he wiped off with his sleeve. Realizing his eyes had not yet been open, Gabryl slowly brought his eyelids up, squinting at his room that was now filled with the hazy blue light of a cloudy morning. Leyla had left his curtains open, and the brightness from the outside world must have awoken him. In the back of his mind, Gabryl tried to use the open window as reason for the change in his dream, hoping that it made any sense. But it was best to ignore it, not like it had been the first time he had the nightmare of his first meeting the Angel. Gabryl pulled his knees out form under the blankets and brought his feet the floor. It was cold, and he could have sworn it was wet.

With his eyes still half-shut, a hunched over Gabryl shuffled across the room to the window. Unfortunately, he failed to see the chair that was standing in his path. His chest slammed against the floor without the reflexes of his arms to cushion the fall. He felt his nose swell a little, and as he pushed himself up, there was a noticeable odor of dampness drifting up from under him. Gabryl had to wonder how water had found its way into his room, but he decided to place it on the fact that it rained so much. Tired and now a little injured, he leaned on the dusty glass, watching a few birds glide across the sky. They made him think of Leyla's wings, and whether or not he would ever be able to fly. His eyes fell shut again, and he felt like he would fall sleep once more. The threat of the nightmare looming prevented this though, and Gabryl leaned away from the window before slumber could take him.

He showered, letting his perspiration-lined clothes air out in the meantime. The warm, rejuvenating water was a good way to put the life into Gabryl, puns aside, and let his mind work a little more efficiently. It also helped to construct his thoughts, so that he could take in the events that transpired in one day. He leaned against the shower, smiling a little, letting the spray drum against his chest. There was a reason for him to go on, now. Gabryl would experience a whole new set of adventures, escaping from his life of monotonous killing and giving dread to whomever he had contact with. It was almost as if he was reborn.

Yet, his enthusiasm was killed for the umpteenth time only moments after entering the lobby.

"Hey! New guy!" Raimyd shouted from below. He pushed a few taller men out of the way, and met Gabryl at the last stair. His head turned every now and then, eyes continuously shifting in search of someone. "Gabryl, right?"

This surprised Gabryl, who did not expect to be recognized so quickly. Hearing someone address him that bluntly made him falter.

"Um, yeah. Who are--"

"Good." Raimyd interrupted, and he grabbed Gabryl by the shoulders, pushing him to an empty table. "Wait here. We're leaving in a bit, so I'll get the others." He started walking back to the staircase, mumbling, and Gabryl could not tell if he was talking to him or himself. "Didn't think you'd wake up so early, geez…"

What confused Gabryl more about this statement was that the clock read eleven twenty. Perhaps they were just night people, and were used to sleeping in. However, before he could further contemplate the living habits of what he was sure would be his new friends (by default) there was a soft thud across the table. It was Leyla finding a place to sit, and she did so with slight unease. Gabryl observed a cup of coffee in her hand, and not even a mug, but of fine ceramic work. It was odd, as Leyla was not a person he would peg to own such a delicate item. What would also be to Gabryl's surprise, if he knew, was that this coffee cup had been refilled for the sixth time in the last eight or so hours, the surprise of course being that one could drink so much of the stuff and not be in the least bit jittery. He tone of voice showed that she was feeling quite the opposite, in fact.

"…Gabryl." She whispered, acknowledging him. Gabryl gave a nod, and turned in his seat to face her.

"Morning." he bode, flatly, not trying to upset her by sounding too happy. Gabryl knew how that could just set her off. Fortunately, this worked, as Leyla's eyes sunk down to drink, which Gabryl saw was black and steaming. Her previous cups had also been black, which would surprise anyone even more that her blood was not made of caffeine by now. Leyla's eyes darted form the cup to the stairs, to the front desk, and finally back on Gabryl. She slid the cup over.

"Here, I don't need any more." She said, still quiet. "You haven't eaten or anything, and it'll at least wake you up."

Gabryl pulled the cup to his side of the table, slowly, albeit gratefully. It had been more than a day since he had filled his stomach, so yes, a beverage that would give him a slap to the face was appreciated. Especially one that didn't seem to have anything added into it. Gabryl sipped, and winced as he swallowed. How could anyone drink this? The fact that he was incredibly hungry was the only thing keeping it down. It was better than starving.

"Ah, good morning you two."

Gabryl cocked his head and blinked, coming face to face with a white coat, slightly shaded blue. Ansem stood, with fine posture, and a hand in his right pocket which itself was concealed under a red scarf slung around his neck. His arrival was received with a small hello from Gabryl, and complete ignorance form Leyla. Ansem was hardly offended by the non-greeting though, and nodded, the corners of his mouth raising in an attempt to uplift her with a smile. She wasn't even looking. With a sigh, his hand came from under his scarf, and he handed a Keychain to her. She morosely took it, transferring it to her own pocket while trying to not look at it. Gabryl stared at Ansem hopefully, but did not hide it very well..

"Gabryl, I'll be assigning you one once Raimyd returns." His gaze shifted between them. "The four of you will be going out on reconnaissance at the," there was a small couch as he cleared his throat, "scene of the crime, as it were."

The new Reaper, without any knowledge of what Ansem was talking about or why they were even doing it, nodded enthusiastically. Gabryl was very much glad to be doing anything, especially if it meant he would have a Keychain.

"We too late?" Raimyd called, clamoring around other tenants, and coming to lean on his own chair. His attention averted towards Leyla. "Found the beauty queen trying to freshen up for all the boys down town that can't see her."

An agitated Medea, hair soaked, stormed down. Her fingers were almost wringing themselves around Raimyd's neck, but she restrained herself enough to take a seat. A pair of dark eyes nearly burned their way into his smirking face, though, but she didn't let her rage come down on him. Partly, this was because it was quite early, and Medea was not in the mood to stress herself out when the sun had just rose. Another reason however, was that she was trying to not appear as some quarrelsome monster to the new blood. Medea had decided logically that if Leyla would angst every moment she had, and if Raimyd was going to be a complete snob, that she would have to take the housewarming into her own hands.

"What, nothing?" Raimyd chirped, an eyebrow rising. "Well if you're gonna be so quiet, then don't get me started on that music you blast--"

"Quiet, Raimyd." Commanded a deep voice. Gabryl was surprised to see it come from Ansem, though there was really no other candidates for it. Strange though, how a sort of fatherly, gentle quality left the man as soon as he stated those words. The air was cold for a while, before he started speaking again. "Now. Rai, you'll be sharing one today with Gabryl. This way you two will keep close, understood?"

It is difficult to explain the cornucopia of emotions that showed on Raimyd's face in one instant, but they very quickly cycled through shock, anger, acceptance, slightly more anger, and finally indifference. He was surprised to have the rookie paired up with the previous rookie, himself, then angered that he had lost the opportunity to go out on his own. Soon he accepted that it would not be too long until Gabryl was responsible enough, or dead, which ever came first. Then he was angry once more at having to get up so early, afterwards forgetting about what had angered him in the first place.

"Whatever." He snatched the Keychain from Ansem's palm, prompting a very disappointed Gabryl to watch it travel from hand to hand. That was, after all, the guy he was sharing with, right? He had to at least get to hold the thing once. Medea took her own, and Gabryl stood up, almost knocking his chair aside to see if Raimyd would let him get a good look at the item he could very well call his own now. However, he was rushing to the door already, slipping on a green camouflage jacket that he plucked from a coat rack. This indeed surprised the others, who were more morning people than him.

"C'mon, I wanna grab some breakfast on the way back!"

Medea grabbed Gabryl by the arm, wrenching him forward, and turned her head to Leyla. Her other hand signaled for her to hurry along, and she made for the door, which Gabryl had reached out of fear. He really did not know who this person was and how violent they could be, and was not willing to find out. Gabryl set the bar of politeness for Reapers at Leyla's level, and ever since Raimyd entered the scene, he was contemplating setting it a little lower.

"Leyla, you know he's gonna be there by the time we cross the street. I want to get it over with too, no reason to hold back." She walked to the other side of the table, ushering her to go with them. With a sigh, she gave in, and shuffled to the door. Ansem gave them both farewells in the form of a nod, and waited until they had left. He tugged at his scarf, and returned to his post at the checkout desk. The next hour or so that the Reapers were gone, went as normal for him, except for something in the back of his mind. Gabryl came to him as familiar, or perhaps the way he acted. The child was quiet, but Ansem could see an apparent optimism in his eyes. Blue ones, at that, with a rare vividness. He shrugged it off, and went back to some paperwork consisting of tax reductions, and his own research notes.

There was a brisk gust of a wind, which blew Gabryl's hair aside. He shivered, and brushed it back over his ears, hoping that it would keep him warm. It didn't help. He crossed his arms and looked around, trying to keep his mind off the cold by distracting himself by the events surrounding him. Ironically, the town never seemed so boring. There was noticeably more growth in this area though, and towering evergreens did liven things up for the eye. Nobody, not even cars, roamed at this hour, which seems almost completely darkened, with the tall buildings and trees blocking whatever sun made it from behind the clouds. Since it had just rained so much though, Gabryl had hopes there would be some light soon.

Hm. Light, sun, warmth. Damn, he just reminded himself that he was cold. A sigh emitted, leaving a barely visible mist. Talking might help, he concluded. After all, he would have to get used to these people, and small talk could be the best path to get to friendship. He paused his thinking. Friendship. Did he even want to be friends with these guys? When they weren't being rude to him they seemed generally intolerable. Or maybe he was that way too. Gabryl had hardly said a word since arriving, so maybe they saw him as some mute freak. He would have to speak eventually to get on their good side, then.

Later, the irony would hit Gabryl that he had thought in full circle, only justifying himself by the want to be accepted. He picked up his pace, coming to Raimyd's side, who barricaded himself against the cold with a heavy hood. Raimyd's pale, reddish eyes glanced to his side, and he gritted his teeth.

"Um, Raimyd?"

He responded with a blink, and wordlessly gave him permission to continue.

"Since we're supposed to be partners or something," Gabryl could actually see his teeth grinding as his lips parted, "could I see the Keychain maybe? I never really, er, owned one."

"Sure, fine." He rolled his eyes, tossing it in the air, across to him. Raimyd had been playing with the chain around his fingers, and it only served as a reminder of his new situation. "Just hold onto it. I'll be hanging out with Medea. Don't bug me. You can explore on your own when we get there."

"Oh." He spat out, fumbling to catch it. Gabryl pricked his fingertip as he tried to steady the small, metal emblem. It was pointed, and in fact it had multiple little points. He carefully turned it, seeing that the points were like spokes, coming off a silver, circle-shaped piece of metal. The chain hanging off of it was black and red, and segmented in three parts, unlike the generic chain Leyla's had. He closed his hand around it, bringing it to his right pocket, thought he was crazy when he felt a heat coming off the Keychain. Gabryl inferred it was his mind playing tricks on him though, with him wanting to warm up.

"Hey." He said, Raimyd's last words finally registering. "Where are we going to, anyway?" His inquiry was more directed at the whole crowd, rather than just at the irked Reaper next to him. Fortunately, Medea addressed the question before anyone could lash out.

"Well, hon, we're setting off to where you were yesterday."

Gabryl finally paid attention to where they were walking, and took in the scenery. They were walking the same path that he and Leyla had taken the day before, heading back to the town common. He looked up, seeing that the populous of trees had all but disappeared, and a tram could be seen rolling by.

"What's so important about that place?"

Leyla shot him a malicious look, but it was hidden by her better sense a second after it flashed on her face. Medea noticed, and put a hand to her shoulder.

"You know well why. We're searching the area to see if the Angel left anything behind, or if there's just some kind of clue…"

"Clue to what?"

Medea stared at the ground shortly, getting anxious glances by her friends, so she decided to drop that subject. Too much for the kid who did not even know how to fly.

"Nothing. Just something we could use against the Angels."

Gabryl nodded. That was good enough an answer for him, and he thought he was getting a pretty good idea of how the system worked. These Reapers, and possibly others living at the inn, were not just in hiding. This was some kind of rebellion.

"…This is it." Leyla announced, close to a whisper. They all scanned the area, though nothing was out of the ordinary. Small shops filled in the little spaces between tall buildings, and one store stood in the middle of it all. The tram from earlier circled around it before taking off towards the other side of the town, and they crossed the now-safe track. All but Gabryl, who was the only one that knew where the murder took place. He looked over, saw where he had hid while watching the Angel appear, and went towards where he had stood in fear. Leyla had a feeling that Gabryl was onto things, and purposely inspected the opposite end of the district, behind that standalone building. Raimyd stuck with Medea, lacking a Keychain, and checked the cracks, riddled with small fissures for things to fall into. Gabryl found something much more interesting than what could be found behind a building or in some crack, though.

He had not noticed it while standing there before, as his focus was more on the supernatural being before him, but the very spot where Lucre had been vaporized was scorched black. It was a splatter mark from the blast, and the more Gabryl looked at it, the more sick he became. He went down on one knee, disgustedly running a finger over the blackness. Upon checking his finger, there was no noticeable residue to be seen. It did, thankfully, take the pressure off of putting one's hand on human remains. Gabryl did realize however, that it had rained, meaning that anything left would have been washed away. The Angel burned the brick ground.

"Wow…" He was impressed, and terrified at the power. Gabryl hoped, for Lucre's sake, that the power from the blast made it a painless death. He stroked the ground with two fingers this time. Nothing rubbed off but some mud and water left by the rain. Whatever that power was, it was not just light, as it would take some degree of darkness to leave a permanent, black color. It piqued Gabryl's interest, thinking that the Angels used an attack whose element was opposite of what it seemed.

Eyes trained to the ground, Gabryl did not see as the sky changed. The thick layer of morning overcast began to subside, letting the sun just peak through over the horizon. Rays traveled between buildings, reflecting off windows, until one stray beam illuminated the drenched stone. Something glinted in the light, something black as the mark present. Gabryl was just about to get up when he saw it, and leant closer to the ground to see. His fingertips explored this section of the smear, and found something laying on top of it. It was cold, metal, but light. Gabryl picked it up, and held it to the sunlight that was kind enough to find him in the first place.

What he had picked up, was a Keychain. It was perfectly black, as black as black could get, and stood out amongst any color. Except for what he had found it on, but color seemed to be some strange exception. The chain links were thick, and just as black as the emblem; a three-pointed crown. Gabryl watched on with awe as he held it by the chain, letting it spin gently by gravity's doing. It was very pretty.

"…Mine." He declared simply, under his breath. This Keychain was his, and it would be his own secret. Gabryl had found it, therefore he didn't have to show it off or turn it in to Ansem. Where did it even come from? He could not ask, though. The they would know, and would try to take it form him. This was his discovery. Gabryl buried it deep in his left pocket, away from the other, and fearing he might take this new one out when giving back his other, very warm one. "I'll just be careful, and if worst comes to worst, they might let me keep it or something--"

"Gabe!" There was a call behind him. Gabryl had not realized how loud he was talking to himself, and Medea had snuck up on him.

"Gabey, we couldn't find nothing. Rai's trying to force us home, so…ew." She looked, with astonishment and disgust like Gabryl's, at the mark. "That where it, um, happened?"

Gabryl nodded, and stood back up, brushing water from his knees. He felt as though the miniature crown was protruding out his jeans, alerting all to what he had found. And even if it was, Medea was mostly focused on the ground, walking over.

"What a way to go." She lamented. Gabryl had to wonder how she knew the fashion in which Lucre was killed, but assumed that she must have known with experience in these matters. It didn't make a difference anyway. He stared once again into the inkiness of the mark, as if transfixed, and didn't notice Medea turning to Leyla and Raimyd, who leaned against the nearby bulletin board of public notices and town announcements. He also did not notice the sun falling behind the clouds once more, as the blackness was undisturbed by light. What he did notice a little, was a pair of bright, yellow eyes staring right back at him, from the middle of the mark. Gabryl blinked. They didn't.

The blackened ground seemed to rise up, becoming a kind of bulge. It quickly increased in size and height, looking like a sphere and then thinning down like a neck. Long, erratic antenna stuck up from the newly formed head, and a pair of shoulders were now completely emerged. Gabryl was now much more concerned of this than when there were only eyes, and he stepped back in shock when a pair of arms with clawed hands were raised threateningly at him. They twitched, like the rest of its body did frequently. A moment later, the creature stood hunched over, head turning from side to side, and stopping on Gabryl. It twitched more, like it was going into a seizure, and bent at the legs. It was preparing to lunge. The head reeled back once as if to warn Gabryl, emitting a deafening, alien screech. A hand went to Gabryl's ear, and the other was trying to summon his scythe in defense. It was all happening too quickly though, and he closed his eyes, bracing for the attack.

He saw nothing through his eyelids though, and after a couple seconds had passed, figured opening them would be best to tell if he had died or not.

Expecting the monster, Gabryl's mouth gaped a little when he saw Leyla instead. She was leaning over, both hands gripping the end of her scythe's shaft. Said hands were shaking. The blade was wedged into the ground, in the middle of the mark, where the creature had emerged. Gabryl had opened his eyes just in time to see a explosion of dark smoke where Leyla had struck. The blade itself was longer than his, and going in a crescent, but was much more crudely shaped. It was jagged, with a rough, zigzag theme to it, which applied to the shorter portion of metal opposite the main blade. That was the gist of what Gabryl saw, before it faded away. Leyla composed herself, checking over Gabryl to make sure he had suffered no attack, and looking back at Raimyd and Medea, who had watched the event in horror.

"Gabryl." She beamed. "You guys. We're going. Now."

They had no qualms obeying, and the group made haste to return to the inn, cutting every corner possible. Leyla kept her hands stuffed in her jacket, hiding their trembling. There other two marched behind her. Gabryl was the only one with an expression of worry, contrary to their straight faces. He had no idea what that thing was, or why it was apparently ready to attack him. It was easy to infer that it was dangerous, and something they all knew how to deal with, otherwise it would not have been sliced in half that fast. Ultimately, these clues gave him nothing. Gabryl sucked in his breath and prepared to give another series of questions that would torment all but his own sense of curiosity. And even that was getting a little meek.

"Guys, what was that…thing?"

As expected, a coldness drew over them. One that spawned from three people thinking how much they hated the new kid and his abundant questions.

"It was a Heartless." Leyla muttered, turning her head just a little in his direction, as if to show it was she who answered him and yes, without some snide remark or attitude. Before Gabryl could ask more, she cut him off. "We'll explain when we get back."

She walked faster, steps increasing in width. The others sped up accordingly. Gabryl huffed, glad that he was at least going to get a little exposition on this mess. They crossed the street earlier than usual, seeing a clear place in the street, so that they could rush to the inn on a straight path. It was efficient. Finally, the inn came in into sight, among a scattering of trees. They could just the roof through the branches, which gave them ease. It was seeing the door that put them off, though, or at least what they could see. A crowd had gathered at the double doors, keeping them forced open and surely letting in a lot of unwanted cold air. The four Reapers slowed down, a block away from the sight. Leyla and Medea looked on with contempt, while Raimyd shared some of the same curiosity as each other. Those standing at the door, most notably those with large black wings, were all Reapers looking for admission before the entire building was occupied.

"Shit." Spat Leyla, completely prepared to shove away anyone who blocked her path. The others kept their distance, to avoid her rage. "I thought…" She pushed, but to no avail. "I thought we'd get in before the storm. But--" An elbow recoiled and jabbed her shoulder, while a feather obstructed her vision. She backed away, with a very unpleasant snarl plastered on.

"They're early."


	4. Far

Thanks for coming this far with me, for what I hope will come off as a fun chapter, if not filled with too much exposition. :P But hey what can you do sometimes. I'm glad to have the fans I do, and I'm never disappointed to hear readers speak out, whether they be good things or bad. On that account, I thought I'd address what I have seen.

Gabryl being weak and well, hated on by others. I don't want to give away much, but some of that issue will be looked upon in this chapter. Outside of the fact that he never knew he had so many powers, or potential, there is a lot of deep psychological reasoning happening in some of the characters, which was really a goal I had for this story. This includes Leyla's actions. I truly wanted to make it dark, in that you slowly learn the character's opinions and such based on their experiences.

So uh have fun with that. I know I am. :3

And of course, for using other KH characters. This is a no-brainer, being an AU story, but I've realized I'm lacking on them. I do plan on putting up many more as the story progresses, and have a few popular ones chosen already. Expect a couple (and by that account "implied" few) in the next couple chapters. Fun fact, however, in case you haven't noticed, there have been three KH characters used so far in total. One is a little hard to spot out, but pretty obvious if you find the right spot. And, as I said, that character implies more~

Lastly, as of posting this chapter, this profile is officially up to date with what I have typed so far. Meaning that I hope this doesn't mean there will be any hiatuses because of writer's block, but I have tons of ideas ready to type. Enjoy chapter four!

* * *

IV - Far

The tiny metal point made rough strokes, etching into the wood. Nonsensical shapes and lines were formed. Occasionally it would stop in one place and pivot, driving into the table, digging up little shavings. Gabryl blew them aside and started over. Then he realized that he was probably damaging private property in some way and stopped, figuring he would pass time in a more effective way. Perhaps he would plague the other bored Reapers with inquiries as to what was going on at the moment, as the last half hour flew by with the four of them just sitting at the usual spot. This was after they fought their way through a crowd of anonymous Reapers, who had all thought they were trying to cut in line. This left them a little frazzled, and had Gabryl thinking how much he loathed mob psychology, but that was trivial, and he figured there were more important things to think about.

Why were there all these other people mobbing to get rooms? Was something going to happen soon? What was that Heartless thing that tried to attack him? There was also the Keychain he had found, where did it even come from? He decided that question was better to keep to himself, because Gabryl wanted to keep it as his own. His hand patted the side of his jeans, feeling for the small crown. Just to make sure it had not disappeared, or that it was even real. More pertinent however, was why Raimyd felt it so necessary to whine about how hungry he was.

"Damn it." One fist clutched his stomach, while the other clenched in pain. "I'm hungry Ley, do I need to stay here or what?"

"Yeah." She answered, quickly and with authority. "I'd like for us to all tell Ansem what we saw."

Raimyd was beginning to sweat a little, but Leyla did not care what kind of agony he was facing. She found the current situation to be a critical one, and planned on giving Ansem a full report, having them act accordingly.

"I don't care. I think my gut's trying to eat itself." He spat, trying to move, and faltering. Medea grabbed his arm to hold him steady, which he pulled away in indignation.

"A sandwich or something! I'll be five minutes. There's this place right over-"

"No." Her answers were not at all hesitant.

"Well I'm sorry we can't all be running on caffeine all day." Raimyd shot back, as if thinking that insulting a person would in any aspect inspire them to let you do what you wanted.

"Quiet, you two." Medea said, before Leyla could mutter something increasingly offensive, and motioned towards the desk. "Place is booked up as it is. Won't take Ansem more than five minutes to come this way." She glared at Raimyd, and saw his eye twitch. In fact, he almost looked sick, and coming to a realization, Medea rolled her eyes.

"Rai, when's the last time you killed anyone?"

Gabryl looked up, suddenly distracted by the carvings he had gone back to installing on the beaten table. Listening to these people bicker was nothing compared to paying for a few damages, and he lacked money to begin with. His goal was to make a hole deep enough for the Keychain to stick up in, so he had zoned the talking out to make better progress. The last sentence though, caught his attention. Raimyd seemed to catch himself before speaking, expecting a less rational answer, or name-calling to make up for their earlier tussle.

"…Oh."

"Mmhmm." Medea nodded.

Raimyd felt his stomach, noting how the pain seemed to be coming from his muscles, chest, and where his heart would be. He took a step away from his chair, and limped to Gabryl, holding his hand out for the Keychain, and received it with a disappointed pout as Gabryl hung his head back over his unfinished renovation. Raimyd took a deep breath, bracing himself, and took off towards the exit, speaking over his shoulder.

"Yeah." He shrugged. "Been like, a week." Raimyd tucked the object into his breast pocket, and gave a kind of embarrassed smirk upon turning his head. It was not an enjoyment of his to be wrong, but now that he knew for sure what the pain was, he wanted it to go away as soon as possible. And if, by chance, a café or something was on the way back from his target, then so be it.

Those remaining reverted to their original silence and irritation of the new, not so silent guests. Gabryl had to ask his latest question, spurred from a conversation that troubled him, and while backlash from Leyla was inevitable, at least Raimyd was not there to double the dirty looks.

"So, hey." Gabryl winced, feeling like his every word was a hindrance. Medea looked up, lifting her cheek from her shoulder, breaking her concentration. She seemed to have been looking at some of the Reapers at the desk and other tables, as if looking for one in particular.

"We have to kill people even with the Keychains?"

Leyla nodded, staring aimlessly into nothing, and Medea added on.

"Yeah, they just let us have a little more time in between."

Gabryl recalled Raimyd saying it had been a week since his last kill, which was far more than a "little". Especially for him. Holding off his murders for more than a day was enough to keep him content, though. His eyes caught a dusty clock hanging near the lobby television, and realized, with fascination, that it had been at least twenty-four hours without getting an impulse. No Angels trying to kill him either. Medea noticed how deep in thought Gabryl was, remembering again how new he was to everything, and in need of so many explanations. She checked to see whether or not Leyla was in the mood to talk. Her bored trance said no.

"Keychains are real important, Gabe." She added on, eyes darting from her student to the door. As it turned out, there was someone she wanted to keep an eye on, but they had not yet arrived. "They're what let us stay off the Angels' grid. One moment without one, and they'll come right down to take us out."

He slowly nodded, already knowing these basics through his experiences. This explained what had happened when Leyla first found him; there was no Keychain with her, so she had to find one before that Angel found her, and she was lucky.

"Lot of us have been teaming up with only a few chains. Makes us stick together, in case anything happens. If an Angel does show up, there's a better chance it could be taken down with more of us."

"Or just last longer." Leyla added grimly, still fixated on nothing in particular.

"Yeah, yeah." Medea's intention was not to make things seem so hopeless. "But, problem is, every now and then we come to a shortage. That's why we're making groups like this in the first place. Eventually, time come's when we gotta find more."

"Uh…huh." Gabryl mumbled, trying to fit in a response to show his interest. Finding more? Did that mean going around, picking up Keychains wherever a Reaper happened to die?

"So, every few years we have a "Raid". Bunch of Reapers from around Twilight Town, even outside it, come in, and we steal some of the Keychains from the Angel base of operations."

Gabryl's blankness suddenly flashed to one of utmost confusion, as, once again, a single sentence completely dumbfounded him. Was that the reason for all the Reapers? Were they all going to fly out to this place, probably risking their lives, to grab a few handfuls of magical pieces of metal? And this would not be any regular place, but where the Angels worked from, or something. That meant they would be there, maybe even waiting to vaporize them on the spot. Disturbing images began to come back to him, but he ignored them enough to phrase his surprise.

"You mean, um, they just fly out or something to find…them?"

Leyla was cursing the incompetence she felt she would need to get used to, and cursing the possibility of never getting used to it. Medea continued speaking, looking straight past Gabryl and to the door, which he found a little rude. She found herself engaged, though, taking out her own Keychain and laying it on the table.

"Mmhmm. Last time it was me, Leyla, and Lucre. 'Bout five years ago." She smiled a little, reminiscing, while Leyla scowled at the mention of Lucre's name. "Left way early in the morning, so no one would get in our way. Had to be stealthy."

"Why? Didn't the Keychains just hide you?" That was the first time he had said something so openly in their company. Being so comfortable around others was coming off as quite the comfort, and Gabryl found himself leaning forward a little, just as excited as the woman explaining things.

"Well, see Gabe." She said, wagging a finger. "The Keychains don't make us disappear entirely. We just blend in. In crowds, on the streets, anywhere with a bunch of people, they make us safe. Angels could always blow up the whole town to get rid of us, but they won't kill that many people until it's their time. Overflow of hearts or somthin'."

"Oh." Gabryl said, thinking. Keychains really were not the end-all be-all answer then, they could not do everything for him. He would still need to keep himself hidden, and kill on the weekends. He sighed, and tried not to let the learning session he was enjoying die. "So it would be weird to have some normal people walking around where they live then."

"Normally, yeah." Her smile widened a little, and she tilted her head towards Leyla, who slumped lower in her seat. "But another thing about Keychains, is they got powers. Magic" The last words was said with a little exaggeration, but Gabryl was willing to believe it just because of that. Also because he was a supernatural being that killed people for a living.

"We have some kind of secret weapon?" He asked. Medea's increasing smirk answered this prematurely. Leyla produced her Keychain.

"Yep. This little guy here." She flicked the shiny circle, making it swing back and forth. Leyla let it do so, and moved her finger a little to make it move faster. She did this very apathetically, as a kind of joke, but no one paid particular attention to this.

"See," Medea continued, "Ley's Keychain lets us turn invisible. All out of sight. That way we don't get seen at all."

Leyla reeled it in by the chain, and bunching it in her fist. She felt like a pointless visual aid, to which the viewer only noticed what they were holding, or what was displayed on them. Gabryl reinforced this by looking straight at her closed, leather-bound hand, seeing the Keychain in an entirely different light. Imagining what his own Keychain could do, both the one assigned to him and the new black crown, it occurred to him once more that Leyla was extremely lucky to run into him of all people, with such a Keychain. She did not just tackle him to the ground to keep him concealed, but so she could get her hands on the Keychain and access its ability. He had not realized it then, but they must have been invisible, and undetected by the Angel. The frightening consequences filled his mind as well, for if Gabryl never looked down to pick up that chain, or if Leyla never came down that street, at least one of them would be dead. Her in both scenarios.

The very fortunate girl knew what Gabryl was thinking, as he was staring into nothing much like she was before. She bit her lip, and pushed a strand of hair from her forehead.

"And are very, very glad that you of all people were able to retrieve it for us." Leyla narrated the irony in his position, in a sardonic tone. Medea disapproved, and kicked the leg of her chair.

"But that brings me back to my point." She said, ignoring a glare. "Cause we got our special Keychain back, we can go on the Raid without worry. Happens tomorrow, too. Would have been the worst time to lose it…"

Something in Gabryl clicked at that last sentence, that childish sense of curiosity that was becoming ever-apparent as he explored this new world.

"Um, would it be too much trouble if…can I go?"

Leyla shook her head before he finished speaking, mouthing a 'no' to Medea. Her negativity was ignored once more.

"Erm." Medea wanted to say something uplifting here, and turned to Leyla, who offered nothing. "Well, Gabey, it's a far ways off, is all. We tend to have to fly there."

And, like a child, the light died in Gabryl's eyes a little. He was so behind on all this Reaper business, and not knowing how to fly seemed to be hurting him the most. Leyla looked as if she was taking joy in his hopes getting crushed, and smiled herself, finally, and tugged at her hair.

"Oh…" He sighed, trying to block out the one putting him down. "But, but what if I learn how? There's still tonight-"

"Yeah!" Leyla yelled, in a voice that, to anyone who knew her well enough, was very out of character. Gabryl knew enough to understand this as well. "Yeah. Learn to fly in a few hours, and you can tag along tomorrow. Enjoy the ride until you get killed or something. Or hell, maybe when we all die." She stood, sarcastic expression of joy turning sour, and walked towards the stairs.

Gabryl was put off by her show, and wondered how difficult it was to fly as a Reaper. In logically, something as huge as flying should be fairly difficult, but he had no was to be sure. However, the good humor in him could not help but find it ironic, since the task of staying downstairs had been the reason Raimyd was not allowed to leave at first. Furthering said irony, Raimyd was only a few steps away from the table, dripping blood on the floorboards.

"Hey." He took a bite of the muffin he had picked up, and narrowed his eyes at the empty chair. "She took off. I knew it. Bitch just tries to get on my nerves sometimes." Sitting, he laid his right arm on the table, which seemed as if it was dipped in a bucket of red paint, or blood. It splattered, along with some crumbs, onto his lap. Another mouthful of pastry occupied his mouth before he spoke again. "So why'd she go?"

"She lost her temper when Gabryl and I talked about him flying." Medea explained.

"But I thought he couldn't fly."

"That's what she went on about."

"And I can't." Gabryl added on.

"…Alright." Raimyd bit off another little bit. "So she's getting pissy being right about stuff now?"

Gabryl sighed, and pointed to a pair of imaginary wings.

"No, I can't, but Medea was saying I could learn how to so I could go on the Raid thing tomorrow." He said this quite openly, which showed a new level of confidence for talking to the guy he was afraid would cover his other arm in his own blood.

"Oh." Raimyd gave a slightly confused but educated look. It was without the intensity Gabryl expected, but he was glad for that. "Man, what did I miss?"

"You missed." Proclaimed Medea, to Raimyd, brushing a few muffin crumbs off from her side of the table. "The part where I told Gabryl that you would help him get his wings tonight."

Both made a double-take, then Gabryl once more, as he was sure he had missed that part too.

"What?" Raimyd asked, with emotion somewhere between anger and annoyance. The remains of his breakfast was smashed in his non-bloody hand.

"Yeah, Rai." Medea said, standing up. "Leyla won't do a damn thing, and I gotta meet up with someone from out of town. You're the only other guy left whose good side he's on."

And it was at that moment that Gabryl realized that he really was on good terms with the people who likely wished they had never met him.

"…Besides, he'll have to fly eventually if he knows what's good for him. May as well teach him so he can go tomorrow, get some field practice." She smiled, albeit kindly, to Gabryl. "Hope you two have fun." Bidding that, she tossed her Keychain to Gabryl. It was a blue, butterfly-shaped thing. She gave it to him in case they were separated while flying around, should Gabryl learn how, or if Raimyd just left him on the streets.

The usual spot was quiet for a few minutes, filled in by sighs and awkward glances. Raimyd rolled his eyes, then rolled his neck, then did both simultaneously. He lifted his arm up and whipped it to his right, letting some blood splatter to the floor. Gabryl watched, hoping that Raimyd would take him out, despite them not being too friendly. The company may not be much, but Gabryl did want to fly; it would give him some feeling of freedom.

"Okay." He said, slipping his heavy, shoulder padded coat off. "I'm gonna clean off. Meet me down here in an hour, and bring a jacket or something. Gets cold high up." He stood, slowly, tossing the wrapper from the muffin to the ground. "Of course, that's wishful thinking in the first place, huh?" Raimyd chuckled to himself, and went for the stairs.

Well, something good had come from that, Gabryl thought. At least Raimyd could try to teach him. Worst case scenario, he will not have to go on some mission that would threaten his survival on his second day of new Reaper life. Maybe there would even be some middle path where he would end up knowing how to fly, but not be experienced enough to venture out. Win-win situation really, so he was content. Just as long as Gabryl did not break anything being thrown off a building in the process.

A Twilight Town evening, moisture hanging in the air after a heavy rain, red glow of the sun spreading out from the horizon, had a surprisingly peaceful atmosphere. Everything, from buildings to people, seemed to take on an orange hue from the radiating dusk, relaxing to the eyes, turning the world into a visual narcotic. Gabryl felt like he could fall asleep standing up, but Raimyd would rather have just been in bed, especially since he would have to wake up earlier than his usual early. The voices of local denizens drowned into the splashing of puddles, and ringing of a distant bell, which became louder as they came nearer. Like a deep, slowly chiming alarm clock.

Raimyd was not a very sentimental person, but it was not as if he could not notice the subtle beauty around him. The Chapel Hearts tower, across the park, stood strong, casting a cold shadow over the plant life. He wanted to make some joke, paralleling religion, in his head, but thought that admiring the sight would be better. Raimyd shivered when an autumn breeze pushed against them, and crossed his arms to defend himself from the chill. He was the only one of the two without the benefit of something warm to wear, and shrugged comfortably under the thick cotton, and brought a finger to the top of the tower, where the clock faced the setting sun without unflinching.

"We're going up there. Nice and high to practice from." He smiled at Gabryl's reaction, which showed concern.

Gabryl just tried to focus on the very pretty scene around them, trying to not think of falling, or dying. Getting evaporated had finally stopped plaguing his conscience for the day, and hoped being killed in any other form would stay away too. He let his train of thought keep flowing, on the topic of the pretty sky and pretty trees. Some were brown and some were orange, preparing to fall off for the winter. Gabryl has always appreciated the twilight aspect of Twilight Town, when the twilight in question did not signify some sun poking through gray clouds. This was a lot nicer to look at, especially with the bell, that finished its eighteenth ring right as Gabryl snapped out of his thoughts to cross the street to the old church. Six, which was fairly early for the sun to be setting, but it was late in the year.

Wait. Time, clock, tower, falling. Gabryl looked up at the building, which seemed a lot more demeaning up close, particularly when staring straight up from the base. Before Gabryl knew it he was watching himself plummet from the top. Crap. He was really wishing that image would go away by the time he was up there.

"Oh." He said, looking to Raimyd, who also partook in taking in the sheer height of the cathedral.

"Mmhmm…?" Raimyd was enjoying the sight as part of his late afternoon walk. His teacher responsibilities were escaping him, blocked by his trance.

"How are we getting up there?" Gabryl hoped that learning to fly involved him going up, rather than down.

"Right." Raimyd said, snapping out of whatever had enticed him so much. He remember what time it was, being sundown and by the position of the large clock hands, and figured that since it was a Thursday night, there would be no mass in session. Very calmly, he strode to one side of the clock tower, to an old wooden door on the side. A few steps led up to it, which were discouraged to be climbed in the first place due to a sign hanging over the door. "Do not enter" was written on in commanding letters. Raimyd silently brought his right leg back, and kicked it open. Gabryl jumped back from the smooth movement that ended with such a bang.

"There, no one should have heard that. Won't need this on the way down anyway, or at least we shouldn't." He eyed his companion upon saying his last word, pushed the door a ajar, and beckoned Gabryl in. They climbed the dimly let tower interior, which lacked the bright bricks or vibrant colors created from the sun. If anything, the air around the two completely changed once they stepped through the doorway; warm and thick, with the feeling as if they were being haunted. Anyone who regularly visited the Chapel Hearts and was a devout believer would probably say that it was whispering from the hearts that still flittered about the building. Gabryl and Raimyd knew better than to believe such things, though, as they saw hearts going out on their own quite often, not needing to stop off at any church. The steps creaked mournfully, cobwebs hung, catching bits of moisture, and were swatted out of the way for their trip up. Deep grinding clanks from the large, ancient gears that moved the clock hands echoed, becoming louder and louder, until the mechanisms loomed dangerously close to their bodies, threatening to tear a limb off. Soon they reached the door, which would lead off onto an edge on the side of the very top of the tower. Peaceful, with quite a view. They walked on this bordering edge until they came across a corner and stood in front of the enormous face itself.

The park outside Chapel Hearts was even more beautiful seen several stories up than it is from the ground, and Gabryl took the opportunity to take it all in. Light reflecting off of leaves and wet grass, wind lightly tussling them, as well as his own hair. The sun was half concealed by the gently sloping, green hills miles away, making the horizon in the opposite direction begin to darken. There was the distinct arc of a rainbow, visible between two taller buildings, in the main part of town. Gabryl then looked downward, thinking the ground would be just as interesting if not more, only to learn that it was very far down. Nauseatingly far down.

"Well?" Raimyd chirped. "Just a matter of…jumping off. If you can fly, and I'm sure you can, then you'll do it."

Gabryl turned, raising an eyebrow and making a face the displayed how insane he thought this man was.

"Just, jump?" He checked the ground again. It was not any closer.

"Uh-huh." Raimyd said. One of his feet moved out, over the ledge. "Real simple. Like this." The other foot followed, and he walked straight off the tower. And it was the moment that he lost contact with the stone ledge, and the moment that Gabryl thought he was even more crazy, that a pair of black feathered wings emerged from his back. They seemed to come right out of his back, melting out of his coat, while still materializing on the spot. Raimyd had fallen not an inch before he came to a sudden, gravity-defying stop. It was as if he stood on some unseen surface. Gabryl wondered if flying was as easy as joining him on that surface. No.

"Look, I…I've never done anything like this before. I don't think this is the way to start."

Raimyd narrowed his eyes, looking him over, crossing his arms and giving his wings a flap. They were thinner than Leyla's, but seemed to be rounder, fluffier even, but the feathers were overall the same, and just as black.

"Gabe, I think that you may be making this more complicated than it really is."

Ignoring the nickname he had gained, and called many times, as of late, Gabryl did not see how he could simplify things more. Jumping of a building and hoping some wings popped out; what else was there?

"Well sorry, but it's not like I've ever shown any signs of being able to do this."

Raimyd sighed, and drifted to his left, floating in front of Gabryl. His head tilted, causing his body to lose its balance and tip backwards a little. He corrected this and spoke again.

"How long've you been dead?" Raimyd asked, rolling his eyes back in thought.

"…Two years, about."

"Oh, good. That's when I started flying. Found out about it when some serial killer pushed me off a bridge. But that's beside the point."

Gabryl was under the impression that he had made that up to inspire him.

"Happened completely by accident, and the body did it out of impulse. Like a Reaper failsafe. That's pretty much how we all work. Don't worry about it."

"But…" Gabryl, as much as he wanted to fly, wanted more to not break his neck. "But what if it doesn't work? How come I've never grown wings when I really needed them on the ground? What--"

"Hey." He interrupted. "Over-complicating things. You don't always fly by choice, sometimes it just happens. It is installed into us, and there's no avoiding that. You're treating it like it's some right of way for Reapers. Pfft." There was a taunting smirk. "Just do it. Come on."

Gabryl was still apprehensive, which was beginning to make Raimyd a little irritated. So, to speed this needlessly anxious guy up, he did something very logically, that did not involve wasting more time trying to give him confidence. One arm, his right, slowly unfolded from his chest and gripped onto Gabryl's collar. It was a calm movement, but a shocking one to Gabryl, who was too surprised to react. Raimyd tugged, pulling Gabryl forward and making him fall head-first over the ledge. His hand let go once Gabryl fell past his waist, and he watched, bored, as he fell. Yes, he had done something which would cause many to believe him mean, or lacking confidence in Gabryl, or a murderer, but he knew it would work. And if it did not, oh well. He was a little annoying anyway.

To his respect, he did not exactly _push_ him off.

Which was what Gabryl thought as he was falling, thinking that that thought would be his last, and wishing it was not something partially kind to who may have just ended his afterlife. He yelled something scornful upwards as his feet left the floor, and decided he would stay silent the way down. There was really no one to hear him anyway. Twilight Town did not lose its beauty upside-down though, and Gabryl thought that he would enjoy the view while it was in that position, or while he could still see. That is, while his eyes were still in his skull. That is to say, while he was not a splatter of blood and bones. Eventually Gabryl realized that he had been looking at the distorted world for nearly five minutes and since he knew that he was not that high up, there must be something stopping him from falling.

Averting his view from the skyline, Gabryl looked down, or, up. His head fought the pull of the planet to see Raimyd still suspended in the air, looking back down. Gabryl was hanging as well, albeit awkwardly by comparison, staring up at him between his legs, which were forced up to his head. Or, as Gabryl thought, comprehending what he thought was impossible, down. He saw something poking out of his pocket, something shiny glinting in the setting sun, and pushed in his secret Keychain before anyone noticed. There had been a strong lurch that almost made it fall out, when his wings erupted from his back for the first time.

So, he thought, he had flown. No, he was flying. Now. Gabryl tried to push himself, tumbling in the air, so that he was upright. It was a strange sensation, like swimming, only surrounded by a lighter substance. His legs and arms felt like dead weight, as it was his torso that was primarily being lifted. Gabryl turned, and saw his own black feathers extending out of his back. As he saw the large, new limbs, he could simultaneously feel them, what nerves flowed through them, suddenly connecting with the rest of his body. These new features, as the moments passed, felt as if they were as natural as his lips. Soon it was as if they had always been there, and a sense of weightlessness set itself into Gabryl. His wings were one with him, and gave his whole body a feeling of freedom that Gabryl could never have imagined.

He floated, which he now discovered was as easy as willing it and shifting his wings, up towards Raimyd. He seemed bored, and impatient as Gabryl made himself used to his new ability. Unexpectedly, he was slapped right in the back of the head. Then Gabryl glided away.

"That's for pulling me off a damn building!" He shouted, smiling, and let a soft gust carry his body to the low clouds. It was colder, and wetter, but he did not care. This was exactly the kind of freedom he dreamed of, and wanted to feel and savor. To move down, over the treetops, casting an invisible shadow on the people below, only took the smallest flap of his wings and slightest change in their angle. He experimented with how fast he could go, and stopped himself before crashing into an office building. The sleek, unused feathers provided a large amount of wind resistance, so he could cease movement at a second's notice. This also let him see his reflection in the glassy mirror of a window, other than his proud, arcing wings. It was his usual, unkempt self, but there was something different, and not just his hair, blown to the side by the wind. On his face, under his nose, was what resembled a genuine smile.

He let it widen a little more, and let his weight shift backwards, falling, except this time he willed himself to. The flipped Twilight Town was still just as pretty, getting dark, and the sky dilating purple. Gabryl spotted the tram zipping by on its flat tracks, snaking through the town common, where that Heartless had attacked him that morning. He flew down, making himself parallel to the top of the train, and let the hum and roar of the wheels and engine vibrate up to his stomach. It was one of the more relaxing feelings that he ever had in that area. Gabryl, stretching his neck, then brought his knees up, letting his feet make contact with the train, and unsteadily stood up, as if gravity was going to make sure that he would never be off the ground that long again and would make sure of it personally. He yawned, exhausted, and looked around, letting a thumb hook into his belt. A moment later his chest hit the train.

"Idiot!" Raimyd yelled. He had dived straight at Gabryl, kicking him down, and pinning him to the roof. Raimyd's shoe was firmly planted between his shoulder blades.

"What?!" Gabryl growled, trying to roll from under him. "What did I do?" His wings, light as they were while flying, threw him off in such a position. Raimyd grabbed onto a handful of feathers to stop him from twisting, and glared.

"Stupid!" And Raimyd repeated a number of similar words, all a variation on Gabryl being the most unintelligent person in the world. "Christ! You can't just go on your own like when I have the Keychain!" His fingers pulled harder, prompting a yelp from Gabryl. "I can't believe you aren't dead right now." He finally let go, after yanking him to his knees by his wing, and Gabryl scowled, adjusting his new features.

"What are you talking about? I--"

"I have it! Remember? I went out before?" Raimyd produced their shared Keychain, clear as day. Little pointy spokes twirling around as he held it by the very end of the chain.

Gabryl felt the barely visible bulge on his thigh, where his secret hid. Shit, he thought, no one knew about it. To Raimyd, it looked like he just went out to let himself die. Growing paranoid, Gabryl scratched his head, averting eye contact.

"I, um…" He could not see Raimyd's eyes, but knew they were hot on him. "I forgot! I forgot giving it to you and getting it and, er, yeah."

"Idiot. And you want to go to where the Angels live. It's like you're just serving yourself on a platter to them."

Gabryl winced. Admittedly, that is what he had been.

"I won't do it again." The tone in his voice had signs of that admittance, which was enough for Raimyd. Still angry, he turned, blonde hair blowing away and chilling his ear. Gabryl noticed how his roots were much lighter, but Raimyd turned again, this time lowering himself and sitting, crossing his legs.

This newbie, he could not help but pine over, was just so stupid. Leyla was right. At first it seemed like she was just exaggerating, as she often does, and was taking out her anger on him. It definitely was not the fairest thing she had ever done, and he felt bad for the guy. Sure, he would be hazing him a little, being a jerk, making sure that he was not too soft, but that would be the climax of his actions. However, he was still being dumb, flying away like that. Raimyd really was surprised an Angel had not come down and stabbed him in the chest. Was he really that lucky? Last thing this kid needed to be was some crazy prodigy. Leyla would just get pissed off more. That was bad for everyone. A small part of him was worried for her feelings, though, false as they were, since they were Reapers. Was what he was feeling some kind of fake-caring?

Isolated, he sat down on the train, coughing to break the silence. Gabryl tried to fold his wings around his shoulders, seeing if he could shield himself from the cool wind from the speed of which he was moving. It helped some, and he watched the sky change to a full, inky darkness. A couple stars stood out among the light from the town, pouring upwards. The moon was also prominent, about three-quarters full. Gabryl watched it as well, staring without blinking until he could see the craters and shadows.

Raimyd knew a little about psychology; he was working towards majoring in it before he died. Therefore, he knew how perfect the situation was, for things to go badly for Leyla. Gabryl was replacing Lucre, in her view and theirs, and maybe they were all having high expectations for him. Impossible ones, for someone so inexperienced. It took years for this guy to even meet up with another Reaper, let alone fly. They should not be building him up as a replacement, like Leyla might be doing. Raimyd sighed. Loudly.

"Hey." He said, slurring words out of his tired sigh.

Gabryl looked down, at his billowing hair, and was not even sure if he had really said anything. He thought it might be his mind playing tricks on him, hopeful that relations would improve.

"Yeah…?" Speaking, he realized, cemented that something would come from this.

"I shouldn't have been so upset. You're new."

And that was the closest Raimyd would ever come to an apology for the way he acted that day. It was hardly much, but the fact that he had acknowledged his mistake, meant more than Gabryl would ever know. Raimyd sighed again, and drummed his fingers on his knee, and watched the road and buildings that the train passed up. He had another idea, one that required less of him verbally admitting his defeat, and that he could enjoy.

"Gabryl, we're getting off just ahead, c'mon." His wings flapped, and Raimyd leapt off the train, to the sidewalk. Gabryl followed, stumbling when he landed, his head spinning due to the transition from land to air to land again. Raimyd could not help but smile a little when he saw the scene, and took hold of Gabryl's shoulder, leading him in the right direction.

"Where're we going?"

"Clock tower."

"Why don't-" Gabryl tripped over one of his feet, still bemused from his short jump. "…Why don't we just fly there?"

"Other than making sure you don't vomit onto some people from fifty feet up, we have a stop to make."

"Oh."

He threw up.

Gabryl was glad that Raimyd made them stop at that ice cream store first. It was where they sold what Twilight Town was famous for; sea salt ice cream bars. Pleasantly colored, with contrasting flavors, almost anyone could find it delicious. Raimyd was no exception, and he lapped and bit at his like the night before, not letting a single drop fall off. If one did, it was on his hand. Gabryl was timid to trying it, but after a few initial licks, he enjoyed the sweet taste.

"How do you like it?" Raimyd asked, chewing on the top of the stick, which he had managed to eat down to.

"It's…" Gabryl licked again. "It's alright. Gets rid of the bitter taste in my mouth.

Raimyd laughed, something which flattered Gabryl.

"That's deep."

"I meant from vomiting."

"…Right." Raimyd tried to shake the image in his head of someone spitting out bile and whatever remained in their stomach after not eating in so long. Gabryl was just glad he had something to replace whatever he gagged up, but the cold substance also felt nice on his burned throat. Damn he was hungry. Before he knew it he was going at his ice cream quite ravenously, and both of them held damp, flat sticks.

"Love these things." Raimyd said, staring to the blot of orange still left behind the trees. Gabryl noticed that he was deep in some thought, probably thinking about whatever had been so interesting when he would not talk to him on the train for half an hour. Whatever that was, though, maybe something good or bad about him, Gabryl could not help but feel a little happy. This guy, Raimyd, had lashed out at him, made him feel like an outcast, almost killed him, then attacked him, but had made this miraculous change. It made him feel a little happy. Or, as happy or however happy as he could feel. Feel being a loose term of course. Thinking about life as a Reaper was getting to be very depressing, so Gabryl decided it would be more fun to pretend he was alive, and just be truly happy, and enjoy the closing of such a beautiful sunset.

Raimyd, still contemplating on how nice he should be, thought he would be blunt.

"Guess we should go."

The sun was concealed behind the skyline, and night was taking over. The sunset was really the only reason they had been sitting back on the clock tower in the first place, so the lack of it was a fine reason to leave.

"Think I can go then, tomorrow?" Gabryl asked, a little excited. He brought this up when they were half way to the inn, watching the lights from buildings and suddenly appearing stars illuminate the dusk.

"I don't know how crazy Leyla will be about it." Mumbled Raimyd, recollecting on her volatile attitude. "But the others should be on your side. I think you'll be fine."

Gabryl smiled to himself, rotating, and flying on his back, gazing at the sky from below. It was so vast, and those little flickering stars were so far away, yet their brightness managed to make it here. Gabryl had gone far too. He had traveled from an isolated, depressing life to one with people who understood what he had gone through. He walked the long walk to his new home, full of anticipation. He fell what seemed like quite a long way before his wings saved him. And with this breathtaking view of the town, roads like rivers of swarming lights, people like ants, time felt like it slowed, making the trip back seem much farther than it really was. He would be going on an even farther trip the next day.

"Just don't die on is." Raimyd mentioned, letting his arms hang down. "Would be kind of a waste of an evening."

That, Gabryl was not sure whether or not was meant to dwindle his confidence.


	5. Heat

Yes, yes. A month later here's the new chapter, which I apologize for. I'm busy, which was restricting how often I could work, and as I said before I'm now working without having planned ahead directly, so it's up in the air. I think it makes the experience a little more fun though, and hopefully my readers feel the same way as the see the new chapter.

Speaking of which, this happens to be a chapter which is a record length, over 10,000 words, which tops the past ones by a couple thousand. I'm pretty proud of that, I must say, and hope that somehow justifies my lateness.

So, I hope that any readers who may remain after all this time will enjoy this chapter, which awesomely enough brings up more KH elements (in case you forgot this is a KH fic) and adds to the plot itself. Plus I'm sure you were all wondering about these OC's themselves. These answers and more, coming up, as well as in chapter six which I've started on only recently.

Questions, criticisms, and comments welcome!

* * *

V - Heat

Gabryl and Raimyd touched down a few minutes later, on a deserted sidewalk. The shadows cast from trees and buildings combined with the natural darkness, Raimyd's blonde hair being the only hint of light. The inn was in a very secluded part of town, and the branches above filtered out even some of the moon light. The forest extended far out down the street to their right, where a few cars could be seen coming and going, filling a quiet night with coughing exhaust. Down the other way was the more populated district, lit with neon signs and the glow from high windows. Gabryl looked up to the twinkling stars, feeling his wings meld into his body. There was a tingle that shocked his nerves, but it was much more subtle than he imagined. Raimyd went to the doors, pushing the gate open with a creak. The inn was like a ghostly monolith, pale and tall, foreboding, not at all symbolizing the haven it was for Gabryl. It was like a haunted house, spooky. Dangerous. Gabryl made the connection of this after-hours setting with the streets and alleys he would kill people in, often teenagers trying to find a faster way home running into the wrong crowd. He expected his impulse to go off, with such a sense of familiarity coming to him.

They made their way into the lobby, where the aftermath of the crowd had dispersed an hour before. A chair was knocked over, muddy footprints surrounded the front desk, and all but one man was left. All of the new tenants who had come from far away were in their rooms, sleeping, while those who had been there prior had gone out to get away from the chaos. There was an eerie atmosphere of peace. Ansem looked up, the old man seemed to have been in a shallow sleep.

"Yo." Raimyd called, sliding an arm out of his jacket. "Ansem, where's the girls?"

Ansem stood, loosening the scarf around his neck, and meeting them at the desk. He was handed the Keychain that belonged to the pair, and Gabryl had to stop his hand from pulling out the one he had found. It just felt right, he had thought, and felt like it was weighing him down like a brick, burning a hole through his jeans, and trying to wriggle its way out for all to see.

"Medea took Leyla," Ansem began, stowing the Keychain in a drawer under the desk, "out to eat. After a while they assumed you two wouldn't be back until late." He peered at the time. "I suppose they were right. How did it go?"

"Oh, this kid," Raimyd slapped a hand to Gabryl's shoulder, making him lurched forward a little, "is a natural. Once he got the hang of it, flew around town some."

The odd inspirational quip was strange coming from Raimyd, and it made Gabryl feel uneasy, if not a little confident. Ansem looked to Gabryl, walking back out from his post.

"Do you think you will be accompanying the group then, Gabryl?" He smiled. It was an alien smile, but comforting, as it seemed to be coming from a man who was wise, and very knowledgeable. A man that you knew did not smile like that very often. "After all." Ansem continued. "You won that bet of your's with Leyla. Earned your right to join them."

Gabryl was too caught up in said smile, retaliating sluggishly.

"…Wait, what?"

"Medea informed me. I have to apologize if Leyla was harsh, but she is taking our collective loss the worst I'm afraid." His smile faded back on, a mixture of smugness and entertainment. "I almost wished things didn't work out for you Gabryl, again sorry, but the win might have put her in a better mood." He chuckled, but it sounded hollow, unlike his very humane expression.

"Eh." Raimyd sighed. "Give it a few months. I'm just hoping this little adventure will give her a good pick-me-up. Don't need her bitching so much. Oh," A more annoyed sigh followed, "I mean bitching more."

"At least her actions are justifiable." Ansem shot with a stern look. His brow loomed over orange eyes, casting a small shadow. They seemed to glow. He had either reacted to the offensive statement towards Leyla or the choice of words. "Time. That's all she will need. A bit of positive reinforcement from our end will work wonders as well."

"Yeah, yeah." Raimyd was tired and did not want to go on debating what was eating his friend this week. He checked the clock himself, and stretched an arm out. "I need rest." He pointed his thumb towards the stairs.

"Oh, right." Gabryl said, glad to finally have something productive to mention. "Aren't we leaving like, really early? I mean, how early? It's already pretty late…"

Ansem

"That's…correct." He waved at the two, and huffed, making his way towards his own room. It was great and all that they were taking some responsibility, especially Gabryl, but Ansem has the suspicion that he had missed out on some in-depth conversation. Perhaps in which he could explain what was making Leyla so upset, and what was driving her to that little extra bit of insanity. The events of tomorrow would change how she would feel in the long run though, he considered. No, it was more than a theory, but fact. Exactly. The way Gabryl would act tomorrow, or even survive for that matter, could very change the way things worked around their home.

That night, Gabryl dreamt again. It was the same dream from last night; that of his second Angel confrontation, with the same twist of getting vaporized in the end. However, there was another difference. The entire affair took place not in some abandoned living room, but in the air. Gabryl checked and looked around, at the ground, the rest of the sky, and in the middle, but it hardly looked familiar. Some cliffs, plenty of sand and rocks, but nothing that rang any bells. The setting did not have any effect on the outcome or occurrences during the dream though. Dream Gabryl woke up, dazed like every other time, the pain coming to his senses, just floating on the wind instead of a bloody armchair. And when the angel showed up it flew on its own gold-white wings, it went on about its normal business, speaking without acknowledging the new setting. The vaporization hardly had an effect on Gabryl, who was mystified, and wondering what it all meant.

Whether or not there was some in-depth, psychological meaning to it was beyond him, but it kept Gabryl up until the short hand on his complimentary cracked clock pointed to the four. He rolled over, sheets twisting, and pulled his pillow over his head, trying to block out the soft ticking which was beginning to bother him a lot. Every time he tried to not think about the systematic turning of gears, he ended up thinking about it more, and was stuck in some loop of pining over things that did not earn him any more sleep. A prolonged groan was muffled, and he hoped they would not have to leave for at least another hour.

There was a sharp knocking at the door.

Another, louder groan was less muffled.

"Wake up!" Rasped a very agitated voice. It clicked immediately to Gabryl that Leyla had taken the liberty to politely tell him they were preparing to leave. He sat up on his bed, pushing his hair back, and picked up his shirt, draped over the bed board. It was a little dirty from sweat, and smelled to reflect that. Thinking about looking for a washing machine in the vicinity, Leyla shouted again.

"Hey! You dead already?" She wanted to save that joke for later, but just was not patient enough.

Ugh. She would not leave until he got up, or gave some indication, and her confidence in him was a little more than jarring. Gabryl groggily went to the front of the musty room, making sure not to trip this time, and pulled open the door by its loose knob. Leyla was about the same height as him, so her dark eyes, in the middle of a low face, met him instantly.

"Yeah?" Gabryl asked. He had never been so direct, by not hiding his angered tone from her. He had forgotten to do that. He was pretty scared now.

Leyla's eyebrows sloped down, and the corner of her mouth twitched.

"…Half an hour." She spoke through clenched teeth, grinding a little between words. There was an outburst that desperately wanted to come out, but she held it back, and pulled the door shut, slowly. The lack of respect was sudden and annoyed her. Also, lack of decency, as Gabryl had yet to put on his shirt, and still held the wrinkled ball in his other hand. She would try to erase that image from her mind.

Gabryl sighed, trying to smooth the wrinkles out of his clothing. When that failed, he slipped it on and went for his vest, hanging over one of his chairs.

"Half an hour…" He mumbled, making sure he remembered. It was rare that Gabryl spoke to himself, but he was going to have to get used to having conversations, and thought he would practice.

"…Half an hour?!" Gabryl repeated, this time being much louder, and emoting surprise. He hated the way he sounded. More practice was needed.

"Half…an hour?"

"Half an…hour."

"Half- Damn it, twenty minutes."

Gabryl had not eaten an actual meal for a couple days, and coffee and ice cream could only give you so much energy. He was hoping there would be something he could share or scavenge downstairs. Patting down his insulated vest, he felt cozy, but it lacked a hood to ward off the cold from his ears, or even much of a collar for his neck alone. The button-down shirt under did not provide any warmth itself. It was once again approaching autumn, so he would have to get something new, maybe in another color. With others now able to see him, the purple decals appeared less and less impressive to him. Then again, who was he to conform-

"Shit, fifteen."

Hurrying down the hall, he noticed how convoluted his language had become. The swearing he was prone to in his head was spilling out. He then became aware of the tightening spasms in his stomach.

"Food, damn it…Grr." He would try to censor himself in the future.

Gabryl stopped at the balcony, and looked out to the lobby. It was dark, and the only light sources were a television with a flickering news anchor, the LED display on a clock hanging over it, and a few lamps and flashlights being used by Reapers, clustered around tables. A group in particular saw the red digits showing 4:21 and began packing up their various supplies. Maps, pens, and other items stuffed into a backpack. They seemed confident, but Gabryl could feel that they were nervous. Something in their eyes, faltering just the slightest, gave the impression of a heavily masked anxiousness. Even who appeared to be their leader, an older man with shiny, combed-back hair, was obviously apprehensive.

"Hey, Gabryl. Morning." Raimyd said, speech obscured. He held two bagels, one on a finger and the other between his teeth. The former was stuffed into Gabryl's chest, and Raimyd took a bite, pulling away his own from his mouth. "Carb up. Long flight ahead of us, and we gotta go fast." He glanced at the Reapers who had packed up and left. "Damn, others are really getting ahead of us."

Raimyd made the very bold act of actually jumping off the balcony, sprouting wings after crossing over the railing. The rush he normally felt from doing that had worn off a while back, though it still carried a relaxing sensation of weightlessness. That would, or at least he hoped, never leave him. It was a sliver of what could be considered "magic", left in his depressing state. There would always remain something to be desired though, and Raimyd was riding on the possibility that he would find out what that was today. He was very excited about this day, in truth, and had been looking forward to it for quite some time, being picked up nearly three years prior by Medea. He had been dead five months before that. The original rookie of the team, as it were, the only difference being that Raimyd had experimented with his abilities, even if it was not all on purpose.

Flight, though attempted suicide. Later, he discovered the power of his Keychain while going out on a routine kill.

And now, with Gabryl, he felt some kind of kindred connection. He had no idea whether or not he just enjoyed having someone as inexperienced as he was, not too long ago, or if he wanted to live his training through Gabryl again. Maybe he just wanted to be a good friend, and have one in turn. Problem was, he had no idea how close a friend he could be with another. The lacking of a heart persisted. After all, Leyla, Medea…Lucre, all mentors to him, and he was the comic relief, the younger brother, in a dysfunctional family equation. How much did that mean in the long run?

It consistently bothered him. Was the doubt hindering him, or was it the physical incapability?

"Uh…Rai."

Raimyd snapped back to consciousness. His meandering thoughts had caused him to zone out, and now he was sitting on the floor, hands propping him up. The bagel had fallen from his mouth to the floor, too, which he did not bother to pick up.

"Raimyd." Ansem bellowed. "I just came to send you four off, but I know you didn't work so hard up to this day so you could rest."

"R-right." He shook the previous thoughts out of his mind. It was not the appropriate time to get distracted. After all of this was over, he would be able to lay in bed, sleep without a whim, and relax until another big event began to loom towards him. Raimyd steadied himself on one knee, recovering from his fall. Gabryl was standing next to Ansem, his neck and chin wrapped in a scarf he had borrowed form the innkeeper. The red did not go so well with his attire, but who was he to complain, the kid must be cold.

Kid; who was he kidding? Physically they were the same age, and if not for that, about three to five years apart?

"I got the Keychain." Gabryl chirped, feeling important. He tugged at the soft wool, securing it.

"That's cool. Um, you hold onto it for now, in case you decide to go off on your own again." Raimyd dusted off his jeans went to the coat rack near the door. "And, you know, so you don't get killed. We can probably handle ourselves better than you. Better we get caught chainless." He pulled his heavy jacket off a hook.

"Oh, that's fine." Gabryl said, tucking it into his front pocket. Easier access just in case he needed it for whatever reason. Maybe he would unlock some special power of his own.

"Best of luck, and give my regards to Leyla and Medea too, they're outside." Ansem gave a wise smile that Gabryl recognized, and nearly smiled back before realization hit his head like a rock.

"Oh, um, jeez. It's freezing out and they probably want to go-"

"No shit." Raimyd pulled his hood up and yanked a drawstring. This had no effect as the elastic in the rim of the hood had been overused, leaving it loose. "Yeah, guess who's gonna be ticked off." He pushed open one of the doors, barely uttering a farewell.

"C'mon. Right, see you Ansem. We'll be back in a few hours, blah blah, let's _go_."

Gabryl, frenzied, assured that he would be yelled at or shunned by the intimidating raven-haired girl, rushed along with him.

"Yeah, see you, oh and thanks for the scarf-"

The door was slammed shut.

Outside, the cool morning breeze, increasingly common at this point in late summer, was brisk on the face. It chilled the senses just enough, while staying wet with recent rain, so that it was refreshing. There was a low fog in the distance, but the kind of fog that you could never actually reach, that seemed to only hang there on the landscape just so that nature could let you know that yes, it is humid out there. The sky was a mix of gray and blue, but at this hour it was hard to tell if it was the sky itself or clouds. A few cars zoomed by to make it before the traffic light on an intersection turned red, and splashed up some water with a soft crashing.

Everything around them screamed that it was going to be autumn in a couple weeks. Gabryl pulled and tightened his scarf accordingly, and even tried to push it up to his ears, but it shifted down to his chagrin, slack over his shoulders.

"'Bout time." Medea said, arms crossed. "Ya'll have no idea how long we were waiting. Thought we were gonna get a head start this year." She went on mumbling incoherently. A brown, frayed jacket with long sleeves apparently warmed her enough. Leyla had donned a black trench coat, ugly and uncomfortable-looking. Gabryl thought that it took the snugness a little too far, and that it would make the wearer sweat far too much, the way it tightened around her sides and curves. He then figured that this conclusion on her clothing was constructed by his mind to distract him for any other, more primal reasons that he may be looking at her sides and curves. Fortunately she was too busy glaring at the ground to notice any looks.

"Better get going." Leyla offered, wings appearing and unfolding. She gently fell backwards, toes lifting, and balancing on her heels for less than a second before making the transition to floating. Her eyes kept averting the others, though, and one could guess that even when she was high up that she only focused on the horizon, now bordered with a vibrant, orange line of sunlight. The others followed, and Gabryl did what he assumed would make his wings reappear. He took a step, and intentionally tripped right over.

And indeed, before his nose could smash against the ground, Gabryl began to levitate on an odd angle. A very unnoticeable tingle was all that gave any indication of his wings actually sprouting out of him, making the whole ordeal feel much more natural. It was very freeing. He flapped a few times, which to his delight was as natural as waving his finger, as if the new appendages had always been there.

"Gabe, let's go man." Raimyd called from above. Leyla was the first to take the second step; gliding up a little, then letting her wings stop supporting her long enough to fall about ten feet, suddenly shooting off in front of her. Gabryl raised himself to their level, and watched. It was as if she was falling up. Raimyd confirmed his theory, scarcely. "See, flying for us is like a defense mechanism. All you gotta do is control…" He flipped backwards, and took an upside down dive. Without warning he whooshed back up, wind streaked hair making the insane words match the speaker.

"…Control how ya screw up!" He smiled, and climbed higher, preparing to repeat himself for extra speed. Medea had already performed her own variation, and rushed off. Gabryl looked down, feeling dizzy, and shyly tired to do it himself. As it turned out, intentionally trying to fall to your death was not that easy.

He succeeded in taking the energy from one wing, but then found himself hanging on one. It was as if his body just would not let those wings relax. Raimyd grunted and whacked his head with the back of his hand.

"Hurry up, just fall. Nothing to it. Long as you know you'll be okay it shouldn't bug you much."

Gabryl sighed, shivered from a gust of wind, and tried again. He closed his eyes, imagining the blood or whatever draining from his wings to the rest of his body. Just going numb, not being able to react, he would obviously just fall. Then, he would bring them back to life and get on with his adventure. Opening his eyes, Gabryl say that he was looking up, lying on his back, drifting down. That is good, he gathered. Gabryl let his wings curl over the sides of his body, making him thing and without wind resistance. Appropriately, he fell faster.

"Good!" Raimyd cheered, letting himself tumble backwards and join him. "Now just let your wings catch you!"

Gabryl had little to no idea what he meant by that, so he just opened his wings, curving them in a way he knew would make him fly up. He made a distinct swoop, coming in an arc over a few cars, and found that he had acquired quite some speed in doing this. It was speed that felt like it was wearing down, but definitely the kind affected by gravity and all. Gabryl soon came to realize that he was, in fact, falling sideways. Raimyd caught up with him soon, his own wings wide and fanned out. His feathers were thicker than Gabryl's, and his flaps were longer and fewer in between.

"And, when you want to go faster, just drop again." He demonstrated while almost hitting a street lamp, which he advised Gabryl not do. Though he did once.

Gabryl had to make full use of his newfound ability to speed up, too, because the group was in quite a rush to make it to their destination while daylight was young. He gritted his teeth, lips pursed, quickly falling and rising every few minutes. It was hard to keep up with the others, and he worried that he trailed a little more behind them every passing second. To compensate, Gabryl flapped with more strength, which he noticed no one else was doing, and there was an increasing burning feeling gathering at his spine, where his wings protruded. Whimpering, he eased the wing movements, only to slow down.

A cycle of which continued for about forty minutes.

Though it was not as if there was much else to do than concentrate on one's own repetition. The landscape surrounding them for miles was pretty, yet dull; green, sloping hills stretching out, with small amounts of vegetation. Still, even that was beginning to whittle out. The grass was yellowing at this point, and dispersed in patches, the brown earth showing underneath. Rocks and small mesas were visible far away, none of which were in any kind of interesting shape. Some of the closer ones cast strange, pointed shadows from the sun behind them. Gabryl mused how convenient it was that they leave early, since the sun would not be in their eyes while departing.

However, the boring, jagged line on the horizon finally produced something different. Amongst the strange figures standing up, said rocks and such, there was the slightest indent, as if the ground was opening up. Gabryl wondered if this was any indication of them reaching their destination, and looked to Raimyd, who hovered a little higher than himself. He brushed his blonde hair out of his face, letting it streak behind him, and squinted.

"Is uh…" Gabryl gagged, going into a coughing fit, wind rushing down his throat. He cupped a and over his mouth, and raised his voice. "Is this where we're going?"

There was no verbal response, but Leyla, in the lead, slowed down, getting the rest to do the same. Gabryl felt the heat in his joints subside, and for the first time since he had left the ground he noticed the overtaking sleepiness that seemed to accompany flying so often. His hand went from his mouth to his eyes, and he rubbed them. The cool air on his face felt refreshing, at the least, when it was not asphyxiating him.

The sun has risen more, illuminating more of the towering figure ahead. It was definitely tall, full of dimension, with some very intricate decoration. Gabryl's jaw dropped a little more as they came closer. What he was looking at was not some an entirely noble monastery of a base, or some discrete place for the Angels to call home, but a…

"A _castle_?" Gabryl said, surprised. In the middle of a barren wasteland. A number of towers rose up from the ground, made of monstrous architecture, most of which had to have been physically improbably, and supported by something magical. There were white and periwinkle walls, sturdy throughout the test of time, and enormous, rusty pipes jutting out at odd angles. The scale of course, was still incredibly hard to take in, even at their distance, and their closing in on it was not putting anything into better perspective. Gabryl could tell that Leyla was trying to find a place to land, her head turning rapidly. She was definitely in for a challenge, as there was an impossible amount of ledges and platforms on the castle exterior. Balconies off of towers, gaping windows, and staircases that spiraled out of the building and back into it. Leyla tipped to her right, gliding, and led them to a platform that was much lower down.

And did the castle go down. As if the scale was not agonizingly huge from ground level, Gabryl was now aware that what he thought was a hill or ridge, was in fact the drop off point of a cliff. A very, very steep cliff that extended around the wide circumference of the castle in a circle. It went at least as deep as it extended above the crater. His stomach lurched when the change in altitude hit him.

"What is _with_ this place?" Gabryl asked. His voice echoed downward, making reality slap him in the face once more.

"Hollow Bastion ain't the most welcoming place, Gabey." Medea said back. She smiled, and flew up to Leyla's side. They whispered and nodded their heads a few times, pointing into space and what must have been suitable landing spots.

"I'm turning it on. Tighten up." Leyla said. Raimyd grabbed Gabryl's arm and pulled him behind the girls, heads almost at their ankles. Their pace slowed, dying down to a hover.

"She means the invisibility." He whispered to his ear. "We're gonna go in at some point and hurry in and out. Really pretty easy. They know where the Keychains are from last time."

"Oh, nice." Gabryl said, absent-mindedly, gazing up and around. There was water falling from the castle, thin waterfalls, not the most common sight. He was a little taken back by this. Behind them, more rivulets spilled over the cliff, pouring into a dark lake much farther down. Mist billowed out of it in wispy clouds, obscuring Gabryl's vision slightly, but passing out of his way for the most part. He watched the cool vapor pass back up, as if retracing its previous journey, and curl back over the cliff edge and towers. It was like this was the very source of the early morning haze, conjured only to hide this behemoth of a building.

Gabryl wiped some sweat from his forehead, and drifted after Medea, who was scouting out an opening that resulted from the damaging of a wall. She pulled out a folded, yellowing piece of paper and inspected whatever had been scrawled and doodled over it. Gabryl tried to interpret what was on it, only for it to be stuffed away when Medea recognized a particular pipe. There was even still that water dripping down to the right of it. She waved a hand, and the group ascended.

Gabryl felt, once again, the abrupt feeling of coming into contact with solid ground. It was as if the planet was an magnet that had been switched on without warning, sucking his feet flat on the ground. It was also that that moment that he noticed how incredibly liberating flying was, since it was like escaping from gravity itself. He took a dazed step, wings folding and eventually disappearing without his notice, and stared up as he took a few steps. Yeah, this place was just as demeaning standing right up to it, from below, especially the one tallest tower. Gabryl could see that, constructed behind a mess of cogs and rusted metal, was a large heart-shaped symbol. As strange as it looked, he dismissed it for an emblem of the Angels.

"The stairs on the right, and…then a left." Medea said, twisting her finger in an imaginary map. They navigated stairway after stairway before coming a corridor leading to the depths of the castle. There was the faint sound of dripping ceilings and the smell of copper. It would be pitch-black if were not for a few candles hanging off the abnormal walls, constructed of metal poles and bars and piping. The boys were less inclined to enter. Both had pictured the Raid to be more action-packed, though safe, but not so distressing. The adventure to Hollow Bastion was a very romantic ideal; stealing Keychains for the good of their kind, escaping oppression and the like. This just felt dirty and unnerving. The entire heroic fantasy, really, was deconstructed.

It was a good thing they were all wearing some form of boots or heavy shoes, as the water was almost up to their ankles, and sloshed around higher. Gabryl brought his arms around himself, and pulled at his scarf. He thought that they were going deeper and deeper, into the cold heart of this place. Was that symbolic of the Angels? Then again, did they have hearts to compare to begin with? The frigid water, chilling his toes, pushed him away from his thoughts. Some of it was seeping into his shoes, and though inevitable with this much water to trudge through, he kicked at it, and spat.

"When are we going to get out of this-"

A body in front of him halted in its tracks, and lashed around. Gabryl's stunned lips were met with a finger.

"_Shhh_." Leyla hissed. Her orange eyes seemed to dim with her wish for subtlety.

Raimyd and Medea stopped, deathly still.

"Just because we're _invisible_ doesn't mean they can't _hear_ us." She said in a hushed tone. Her front teeth where pressed together so much that it must have been painful, and she flexed her ears, listening. Gabryl figured now was not the time for a remark that would inevitably be interrupted.

Silence, along with the typical gloomy ambience, followed.

"And that goes for all of us." Leyla continued, turning, and slowly raising a foot. "There will be other Reapers getting here at any time. Don't interact. They're stupider than us, they'll just mess it all up."

Gabryl forgot that he was trying to hold back.

"But what if they need help? I mean, isn't it all for the same cause?"

Leyla traced a hand along the wall as she attempted to find the opening to another corridor. Medea took out her paper again, holding it to the scarce light to assist.

"No." Said the former. "We're getting Keychains for Ansem and everyone else back home. The ingrates coming in from out of town are doing god knows what." She slowed at an opening in a wall of pipelines. It was narrow. There was a red valve sticking out of one pipe that she looked over closely, before nodding to Medea. "…We're at least trying to help some people, or doing it the right way. No one else can just disappear like us. Moment someone knows about this Keychain, they'll either want to join up, or kill us for it."

It had not occurred to Gabryl that the Keychain in their possession was so powerful, and that they were actually doing some sort of good, or that there was a moral standard for them to begin with.

"So, what constitutes one of the 'bad guys' then?" He asked.

"Well," said Raimyd, taking over the answering, "it's more the way they do it. Everyone wants to get rid of the Angels, but they want to outright slaughter them. Bunch of radicals." He stumbled on a crack in the floor, and recovered, grunting. "They stockpile these things, using them for the sheer power. Probably want to just nuke the place with them alone. Not as classy as us."

"Don't be so modest, Rai." Medea called, stopping at the end of the constricting passageway. She took a few timid steps, until the tip of her boot found the edge of a pipe. Another, more confident step had her dropping a few feet with a shallow splash. There was less water on that level, which made it seem like a much better place to go when your shoes are waterlogged. Gabryl went after Raimyd, landing in what was actually a puddle formed from the residue of the pipe they had just jumped over. What there were standing on now was a solid, stone floor. The candles on the wall were in higher number, too.

"We're almost there." Leyla called, landing behind them. She took the liberty to sail over the water. "We can actually see how well furnished they are too. It's a little nicer than here."

Logic told the boys, having not traversed the complex insides of the castle before, that the Angels had to live in a better-looking place than a building constructed of pipes and damp plaster. In actuality, the plaster behind nauseatingly-colored wallpaper was fairly wet throughout the new, brighter hallways they explored. Water spots clearly visible, and the smell reflected on that. Other than the candles, there seemed to be some other light source, a natural one or coming from another room.

"Least they take better care of this place than the basement." Gabryl said, putting his hands in his pockets. He felt for the point of his Keychain, making sure he was safe, and sighed. It really only depended on whether or not Leyla was holding onto her own. Still, he liked feeling his own; that warmth he first noticed was not just his imagination, but was there any time he touched it. Probably some kind of magic. It did not matter to him where it came from though, it was just good to feel in such a cold, dripping dungeon.

"No, this is the basement." Leyla corrected, and then turned her attention to Medea. "…Left here. Remember the door at the end?"

Gabryl sighed again, this time in a more dejected manner, and tried to take in the bleak scenery. Maybe someday he would get to lead a Raid, and bring up directions. A sort of glamorous, hero life, he thought sarcastically. A few days ago he would never have thought he could be any semblance of a hero.

The left taken was followed by a right, which opened into a rectangular clearing. A Few other halls branched out from it, none distinctive of leading to a 'Keychain room'. A few pipes popped out of the ceiling, and a whole section of wall was horizontally laid copper tubing, dripping and steaming. It gave the impression that the entire castle was just a thinly veiled skeleton of piping. Leyla and Medea went directly to a hallway on their left.

"Here, cause it turns-"

"Yeah, straight path to the room." Leyla completed.

"We made it?" Raimyd asked, sounding a little excited.

"Mmhmm." Hummed Medea, glad to have reached this final stretch.

As Leyla had said, there was but one last, long hallway around the corner. A simple, tall door was at the end of it, with a line of light bold at the bottom. Leyla walked at a slower, more cautious pace than she had been already, a hand extended towards the doorknob far earlier than it needed to be. She wanted to be careful. If for any reason she needed to open that thing fast, or beckon her weapon, the she would be ready.

She had led them to a location that had little to no resemblance to what else they had seen of the castle. The room they entered was circular, and looked as if it had gone untouched for years. Still, electrical lighting was functional, coming from a lamp attached to the ceiling, and numerous glowing, glass, cylindrical canisters stationed against the wall. Shelves and cabinets were lined with long-forgotten books, and it was all so dusty that prominent footprints were visible on the floor, as if it was snow. Leyla, eyes darting around to scout out danger, went down on one knee a moment later. After pressing a finger to one, particularly large footprint, she lifted it and inspected the residue. Hardly any. Either a previous band of Reapers had arrived earlier, or an Angel was recently browsing around. The former was unlikely.

"Alright, let's get this over with." She said, standing. Medea went to the door, shutting it silently, and leaning her ear up against it. Leyla made sure she was securely on guard, and went to the other side of the room, walking around an old desk. It looked unstable, and a few documents were hidden by dust.

"Stash as many as you can on you, we don't want to weigh ourselves down, and I'm sure a few others from the inn will be using bags later on, for our benefit. That way we'll at least get _some_…" There was a notable lack of feet shuffling on old carpet.

What had gathered the attention of Gabryl and Raimyd, were the hundreds of Keychains adorning the arcing wall. More than a handful on a single hook, which were tightly packed together and went from the floor al the way up. The Keychains, in al their different colors and shapes, each found a little bit of light to have gleam off of them.

"Hey!" Leyla snapped.

"…Huh?" Gabryl said, coming to first. It was almost incomprehensible to her how shocking it was for Gabryl to see so many Keychains in one place, or to know that so many could exist. They were a sign of freedom for him; freedom that was stripped away, that he never had the chance to revel in. "Oh, right."

"We'll go sightseeing later." She whispered, hushing her tone for the sake of their guard. Leyla slid a whole row of Keychains off their metal hook, and let them fall into her pocket before moving onto another bunch. There was a profuse amount of jingling in the room..

Raimyd could fit multiple handfuls into his oversized coat, which Gabryl had trouble shoving some into his front vest pockets. He was accustomed to wearing tighter clothing, and wished someone had told him to wear baggier pants. Five items in the last pocket he could manage later, Gabryl zipped three pockets closed, with some difficulty. He checked on the others; Raimyd trying to find the shiniest Keychains he could, while Leyla was just switching stations with Medea. That gave him some free time for sightseeing after all.

His first item of interest was, of course, the glowing containers. There was one next to where he had already been standing, casting a pinkish glow on the metal. He felt that the light was in fact, familiar. Gabryl leaned over, and touched the glass. Warmth. The liquid inside the canister, also pink, bubbled gently. Gabryl thought it looked relaxing, even hypnotic. His eyes shifted to the wall behind it, where the shadow of the liquid danced and flickered because of the bubbles.

Which is what spurred the memory. The pink color of the liquid was definitely the same as the hearts he collected. Gabryl smiled, tapping the glass, and shook his head. No, it's just a coincidence, he considered. Right. His eyes drifted once again to the wall, though the thought would not leave his mind. After all, the color emitted to the wall looked extremely similar to the glow on the brick, after he killed that couple. Gabryl was in a trance, checking the liquid, the light, and the mental image. Focusing more, trying to make that image solidify in his mind's eyes…then his two physical eyes strained when something seemed to appear in the pink solution.

He tapped it again, as if that would make whatever he saw come closer. Was it an animal, maybe? Some kind of crazy fish? No, it looked inanimate, and long in form. Gabryl made a double take, squinting, hoping that a bubble would move out of the way to give him a better view. For a moment, he thought he saw a Keychain floating aimlessly. The small emblem was yellowish, with some organic curves; conical, even. Any time that Gabryl would recall the shape he saw, it brought up the image of wind or something wispy. At that moment though, he was just surprised, and wondered why he was seeing a Keychain here. What made it so special?

Abruptly, a hand gripped his shoulder. Gabryl jumped, expecting to be vaporized, only to feel that the hand was shaking slightly in anxiousness. He saw Raimyd behind him, eyes stalking deep behind his hair, now more unkempt and hanging to his nose. Pressure had certainly reached down his throat and squeezed his stomach hard.

"Come on, dude. Just gotta get home now."

"Uh…" Gabryl stammered, looking past him at the girls, standing ready at the door. "…Alright."

He really had a thing about keeping Keychain-related secrets to himself.

They left the room as close as possible to the way they had discovered it. The door was shut, and empty hooks had been covered by other chains. Their footprints in now way stood out from the others. Leyla went ahead to check around the corner, into the larger room, while the others waited halfway down. Gabryl made sure to make his distance from her as short as possible, in case, for whatever reason, an Angel were to materialize between them. It may have been a paranoid idea, but not exactly implausible, which was what frightened him the most.

Leyla slowly brought a hand up, nearing shoulder height, and each of the others started to shuffle over. Her head bobbed around a little, searching every corner of the room and into the various hallways. She did not, however, notice a hall that was almost directly adjacent to the one she was looking out of. Nor did she hear faint footsteps and clamoring over the hiss of steam. Because of this, she was not prepared to see a body fly suddenly out of the unseen doorway, and slam against the opposite wall. Gabryl, Raimyd, and Medea were, by effect, completely unaware as to why Leyla had seemed to freeze in fear, and cling to the wall she was up against. Their minds could only wander in the fraction of a second before they heard said body dent the wall it hit, and no doubt crack a few bones. They joined Leyla at the opening to the room, having to remind themselves they were invisible to prevent them from running away as fast as they could.

The man, who had been jettisoned, most likely against his will, was peeled off the wall from gravity, and made no attempt to break his fall. A thin trail of blood seeped out from under his face. Gabryl could easily recognize him as a person who had given up hope, and knew their fate. Their fate to die.

In his still rigid, right hand was a stout rod of metal, and the left had his fingers tangled in a mess of familiar black metal scraps, which while sharp, looked like they had been bent up and torn apart. Gabryl, wondering why he would be holding these things, came to a dumbfounded realization that they were his Reaper weapons, only trashed. The scythe cut short and gauntlet eviscerated, even though Gabryl had not once seen his own get a scratch.

His wings were bloodied as well, and even though all four felt some impulse to call out, and make him get up or fight back or retreat, there was this despair that told them that it was all over. Because, each one of them were thinking the same thing Gabryl was, and the reasons as to why this man had been beaten so badly, his equipment all but destroyed, and seemingly lost all hope. It was simple logic. They wholeheartedly expected the footsteps coming from the hallway the dying man had flown in from, as was it expected to see a taller, older man in black garb and white wings. The Angel had his own signature weapon at his side, a key-shaped sword, menacing even in its odd purple color. Defiantly sharp, no doubt with some supernatural powers of its own.

Gabryl looked up the long black coat the Angel wore, studded with silver spikes at the shoulders and waist. He noticed a lengthy ponytail, graying like the rest of the hair on his head, bounce between his sickeningly pale feathers. The Angel spoke as he stepped with a calm demeanor, cracking his neck.

"Well, well, kid. Not every day I get that kind of excitement. Gotta thank you for it."

Admittedly, Gabryl thought, his voice was quite young for how he looked so far. Not every old guy with gray hair had that kind of tone.

"Shame you have to…leave so soon, though." A chuckle followed, and one could tell that he was smirking sinisterly. The Angel bent over, and used his free hand to hold the Reaper up against the wall by his chin, grating his back against the crumbling plaster, finger and thumb digging under his jaw. Blood was spattered under his nose, forehead, and even clumped up in his hair. His breathing was harsh, audible from where Gabryl was standing, crouched, peeking around the corner. From where he was, Gabryl could see that his hair, messed with caked blood, had at one time been combed neatly back.

That was when he noticed that the Reaper he had seen at the inn earlier, who had left before them and seemed so prepared, was the one being murdered at this moment. Gabryl saw him gagging, coughing, such was normal human reflex in this situation. However, it was like he was not trying to breath consciously. Like he wanted to die before that Angel could do anything to him. Before he could get any pleasure out of it.

The Angel looked at his weapon, and lifted it. Flipping it in one hand, twirling it in a circle expertly, it landed with its pointed tip right on the Reaper's temple. The hilt of the blade glowed with white and purple light, pulsating. Gabryl was impressed to recognize a Keychain on its end, and realized how stupid he was to have not put one and one together with his prior experience of having Keyblades shoved right in his face. Said Keychain glowed the brightest, like a little star, and seemed to be pouring all the energy inside of it to power the rest of the blade.

Gradually the majority of the weapon went fluorescent, up to the three spokes that gave it that key-like look. There was a small hiss as the heated point pressed harder to the Reaper's head, and the Angel cocked his neck once more to make it crack, an unseen grin widening.

Gabryl felt his insides churn, the feeling from his limbs draining, as the Keyblade was now white-hot. A few things were numb. He could feel the heat in front of him, his mind spacing out, and Gabryl began to wonder if he was slipping into another dream or not. Gulping, he assured himself that this was real; he was going to watch another Reaper die, without being able to do anything. In fact, Gabryl almost missed it happen, busy getting sick from the sheer notion of murder. There was a flash of light, a beam going straight out of the Keyblade's tip, and an alien kind of sprinkling, splattering sound that could only be described as very vomit-inducing. The kill was quick, mostly painless, and decided the moment the Reaper had run into the Angel.

The Angel then turned, tossing away the corpse that he was holding by a bloody stump. It evaporated into a cloud of black and purple smoke before hitting the ground, a light clinking noise coming from a Keychain that hit the ground. Gabryl focused on it, and at first reasoned that it must have been what he was holding to keep him unsuccessfully safe. He just then became aware of how grateful he was for the cloaking device Leyla owned, in her far more useful Keychain. Gabryl felt a chill in his shoulders, shuddered, and slowly began to stand. His legs wobbled. Raimyd grabbed him by his scarf immediately, snarling his neck, using better judgment to not gag for air.

Having thrown away his late victim, the Angel egotistically turned on a heel, brandishing his weapon before having it disappear in a blaze of white. It turned out that his face, like his voice, was also deceiving of his age; which, while obviously old, was battle-scarred. There were a few bold, red scars running over his cheeks, the boldest one being jagged and running up to his one uncovered, yellow eye. There was an eye patch over the other, which Gabryl imaged was there for more than treating a lazy eye.

He whistled a little, and soon decided that there was no more reason for him to stick around. He would go out, maybe sit atop his favorite tower, and keep an eye out for more of those little Reapers to pick off.

Which he did, teleporting away in a white flash. It still took a good couple minutes for the Reapers to move a muscle and resume normal breathing patterns, though, afraid that there would be another Angel right behind them, or that this one would have just remembered he dropped his wallet and had to come back at the worst time possible. And, while highly unlikely, they were not about to take chances. Raimyd finally let go of Gabryl, who pulled the scarf so that it was no longer restricting his trachea, and made sure to whisper next.

"Do we go now?"

Medea nodded, and took lead, checking out a few of the open halls. There was one she knew was a straight path to the outside; a platform directly under the front gate. This was where they had planned to escape from, in case of an emergency, sparing the stealth tactics. She considered this to be one of those hectic situations, as the Angels would be on the watch.

"It's right down this way." She told them, waving from down in the darkness.

Leyla made a few hurried strides, wings flourishing out. Gabryl jumped a little, missing a step from surprise. He did not think that the door was too far away, and that she was preparing this early. She must have been worried.

"T-take the back, guys." Leyla said, breathing hard. She was not even running, let alone walking at an insufferable pace. Gabryl only thought he heard her stammer.

The next ten minutes filled each of them with anxiety, not all handling it in the same way. Medea crept on her toes, neck twitching at the sound of every drop of water hitting the ground, and flinching if something ever touched her. Every time there was a sizable opening to the side, she slowed, stuck her head around the corner, and when it was clear, carried on as if it never happened. A few feet back, Leyla remained reserved, and arm held up to her chest. Her mouth stayed slightly agape, a thin mist flowing out, and exhaling with mumbles. It was quiet enough that Gabryl and Raimyd, behind her, did not hear. Gabryl tugged at his scarf periodically, nervous, while the latter stayed half-turned, making sure nothing was following. When the minutes were over, a light source became evident, larger pipes casting shadows upon the walls. Twenty steps or so later, there was a distinct rectangle of almost alien brightness, which was ironically only the sun.

"Medea, s-see if it's clear." Leyla commanded, pressing her wings the side of the doorway. She gave a harsh sigh.

Gabryl leaned against the opposite wall and sighed as well, satisfied that what he believed was the hard part to be over. He wiped his nose, running from the cold, wet atmosphere, and stumbled standing back up. He could tell that made his wings come out due to a small tingle, but did not really care to check. Rather, he was watching the woman in the front of their party leaning out the opening in the base of the castle. She watched silently, making sure no one was hiding anywhere with some Reaper-sensing equipment and Reaper-blowing-up gun, and once she was sure no one was there, gave a thumbs up.

Gabryl let Leyla go outside first, and was about to start himself when he heard something scrape along the metal in the hallway behind them. Then, some deep, growling sound.

"Shit, down!" Raimyd yelled. His arms went out, and he lunged forward, pulling Gabryl down with him. There was a very out of place heat rising behind them, and a red glow exploding. The was a crashing noise, something hitting the wall to their left, and a sharp hissing as a pipe burst open with a spray of steam. Raimyd grabbed Gabryl by the back of his vest and shoved him forward.

He tumbled out of the castle, hitting the metal floor outside hard. He shouted in pain, trying to find the sky so he could get to it. Instead of seeing the sky above him, Raimyd flew over his collapsed body. His expression was stressed, and he looked right down at Gabryl, stopping himself in the air to grab him once more and drag him along. Gabryl tripped over himself as he tried to recover, skidding on a knee, then a hand, and finally running along. The scraping he had heard before was louder now, and there was a definite roaring this time, too, as it cawed out from the depths of the hall. He never looked back, and ran, head spinning, off the edge of the platform. Something hot and crackling passed by his head again as he dived. Fire?

Gabryl tried to summon his wings at least twice before he remember he had them out already, and found himself suspended in the large crater the moment he remembered. He was floating on his back, choking. Raimyd had pulled on his scarf too much, and, kicking furiously Gabryl yanked at it enough that his windpipe was free.

He gasped, searching the valley for the others. Said gasp was from his sudden intake of oxygen, and from seeing that Raimyd, not too far away, higher up, was busy fighting something. The something in question looked like an oversized bird, brown, with strange, frayed wings. It pecked and clawed and Raimyd relentlessly, cawing in rage. Raimyd, fighting back, had brought up his scythe; crescent-shaped, extending off both sides of the shaft. It was intimidating, and allowed him to swing it around fluently with its perfect, sharp curves. Bringing it over a shoulder in an arc, he sliced off a wing of the creature, sending it plummeting to whatever laid below. Black fluid spurted out, evaporating almost immediately. Raimyd gripped the pole of his weapon tightly, hunched over, breathing hard. Fighting while flying was never something he took so seriously, and gravity was more of a bitch in the air.

Gabryl consciously flapped his wings, climbing the air to get to safety. His eyes searched the landscape for someone who was not preoccupied in a battle, and failed. For as Gabryl reached the edge of the crater, peering over it carefully case something bigger and meaner was on the other side, Leyla and Medea were very clearly caught up in a fight of their own.

One stood while the other flew. Medea held her ground, one arm extended towards a horde of the murderous, bird-like beasts. With her palm extended, a blast of what looked like wind shot out of her hand in a huge gust. Magic…maybe a Keychain or something? The feathered monsters were tossed around by the wind, some blown back into the crater. Gabryl figured they would not be gone for long, though, but Leyla did too, and she swooped down from her position over Medea, with her jagged scythe held back, ready to strike. She descended, swiping without hesitation, and Gabryl saw a cloud of black smoke rise from below. Somehow she had successfully destroyed a good number of them, with frightening accuracy. Leyla's apparent skill in total was scary enough on its own. First pinning him in a fraction of a second, then going insane on a flock of demon geese. Christ.

"Wait!" Gabryl said frantically to himself, checking his sides. There were no monsters chasing him, so he climbed up. "There's…there's nothing after me. Kay, so I could just…"

The opportunity seemed pretty flawless, but it was this strange thing in the back of his head, something he believed were called morals, that prevented him from just flying away. It did not help much that he had learned a little while ago that not just did Reapers stick to their code of helping others, but that he was in the most good-doing group of all.

"Um, geez." He paced, bounding to his sides on his heels, and sometimes leaving the ground. "They don't need me, right? I'd weigh them down. Maybe I can just get home from here, it's only…" His head went up, and he looked desperately at the sun and the direction the castle was facing, bringing up images of what everything looked like when they were flying here. "Yeah, that way!"

Gabryl was not entirely sure. He also had no time to contemplate, because an eye-piercing shriek filled the air soon after he decided to ditch. Gabryl brought a hand to one ear just to make sure there was no blood, and after seeing that there was none, ditched.

It was no problem to get into the air, and speed up, as Gabryl was constantly falling over. He let himself have control over the contorted joints in his wings, pushing them up and down, feeling sweat beading up. Flying was hell, and now he was even lacking invisibility to hide; what if an Angel came out of nowhere, flying right beside him, and vaporized him? His dream from last night came to mind, and his jaw locked shut.

Also, there was a tugging on his left leg that was driving him just a little extra insane. Gabryl looked down, in hysteric shock, to see a pair of talons lodging themselves right into the fabric of his jeans.

"Gwah!" He exclaimed, falling, rolling over himself. He was on his back, his leg being weighed down by the creature, and his arms flailing. The damn thing came out of nowhere! Gabryl kicked and tried doing all sorts of aerial tricks; loops and twirls, but it would not come loose. Then, Gabryl began to notice pain in his leg, realizing that it had taken a hold on the limb itself, and any further attempts to shake it off would probably result in him loosing a good path of skin. He seethed at the thing, and brought his left fist around in a hook. Instinctively, he kept punching when that did nothing, the other hand wrestling the claws out of his leg.

The creature itself fought back by peck at the constantly incoming fist, pecking and trying to uproot fingers. It was beginning to lose sight in its right eye, and cawed out in agony, clutching onto its perch tighter. Gabryl, however, was close to snapping one of those skinny legs off, almost growling in anger. Losing focus on his actual navigation though, Gabryl began to skid onto the dusty, rocky ground, his shoulder grating lightly on the dirt until he came to a rock, sticking out at an odd angel. He swore when he hit it, feeling more of his body get punctured, and hit the ground full-on. Gabryl rolled backwards, stomach flipping, and heart nearly coming up his throat. He coughed, the wind knocked out of him, and struggled to stand, wincing when he put weight on his injured leg. It was bloody, and the jeans were torn and mangled from the bottom of the leg to the thigh.

However, the demonic bird that had caused this damage, a Heartless in fact, was not yet dead, though was much more dazed. It croaked roughly, and restlessly flapped its wings in an attempt to get back to its feet. The thing would not give up attacking the man, as that was its nature.

But, the one bad eye did not see the very vengeful, confused, and tired Reaper come at it with a shiny scythe, and part its skull in two. That was the Reapers' nature.

"Damn…son of a…_thing_." Gabryl muttered, using his scythe to hold him up. He leaned, gathering his breath, and finally looked up. Hollow Bastion was the monolith it had been before, only faded, and like a bold shadow on the horizon. Specs, that were his friends on the other Heartless, could be seen by the fixated eye. However, even a bad eye could see the hulking figure looming much closer, and much farther away from the castle. The figure that had followed Gabryl since he left.

Gabryl craned his neck slowly, impressed by the sheer coincidence of how much he was going to die right now. Then he thought how dumb that sounded, but did not really care, because he was going to die a lot.

He turned hopeless, hobbling, using his scythe as a cane. His stamina was depleted, and there was no way he had enough control to just trip over voluntarily. Gabryl coughed, and turned around. This new Heartless was enormous compared to the others. It was, actually, pretty much the same as the other birds, only bigger, and colored differently. The huge, draconic bird was a sickening shade of green, and shook the ground when it landed. Gabryl sighed, and shook his scythe, as if to threaten the thing.

Rather than cower, the Heartless opened its mouth, pink tongue flicking, and the endless opening that was its throat glowing red. The air around its head waved, heating up, and Gabryl braced himself to be barbequed. A fireball rocketed past him, hitting the ground, and setting it on fire. Two more followed, creating a few pillars of bright orange that whipped, crackled, and formed one large ring around Gabryl and the Heartless. Apparently, it was the nature of that Heartless to play with its prey first.

Gabryl fell to his knees, and dropped his scythe. Sand spread out around his fingers, and he gripped it, watching it slip through his fist. In a moment such as this, one would normally see their life flash before their eyes, or have some life-altering realization before never having to think again. Gabryl, however, was still pretty dizzy from Raimyd throwing him out of a building.

The heat around him increased, and more sweat dripped from his brow. A large, monstrous claw stomped on the ground in front of Gabryl, and flexed; taking a hold by grabbing the ground just like he was. Damn, it was hot. So. Hot. The fire was growing unbearable, but at least it would be over soon.

Over soon.

Death.

Something clicked. If there was one thing that Gabryl had figured out, it was that death was hardly an escape, and had brought him more sorrow and depression than anything in the world. Gabryl stared at the dirt with a hollow expression, but then looked up, seeing the hawk-like eyes of the Heartless staring right back. It was then that Gabryl did indeed have his own epiphany, his mind clearing up. Death, the end, the unknown; he was already in it. He was already in the Hell that those nut jobs who attended the Chapel Hearts feared they would go to. The fire and intensifying heat around him only solidified this fact in a twist of irony. Gabryl stood up, staggering, feeling a spike of pain in his leg that crawled up his back, but holding up his scythe freely now.

His scratched chin lifted, and he faced the Heartless without fear.

"Alright you little…big, thing." He shouted up to it.

It tilted its head, smoke lifting from the corners of its mouth.

"You…you are gonna die. I am not going back. _Not_ gonna be in hell forever you bitch." His voice was much stronger, invigorated by his will to live. He also felt it would be offended by calling it a bitch.

Offended or not, he had to win.


	6. Change

VI - Change

That may or may not have been an understatement, but Gabryl was suffocating under the intensifying heat. The ring of fire that caged him, forcing him to face the giant Heartless head-on, made the situation just slightly more hectic. His wings were sore, and those claws would swat him from the sky at a moment's notice. He would have to fight this out on strength alone. Gabryl's survival hinged on the fact that he could hold out physically, maybe until help arrived, or if the beast tired out.

It took a step forward, growling, towering above him. Gabryl realized that the last option seemed far less likely.

"Yeah, you- you damn bird!" He called up to it, growing delirious. Pushing himself onto his knees, then his feet, Gabryl winced in pain. The gash left by the smaller Heartless was exposed, and stung from air, blood making dark spots in what remained of his pant leg.

Disregarding his pain, Gabryl limped, and lunged for his scythe. It lay on the ground only a few feet away, but taking too long to get there could mean getting his path blocked. Not looking up once, he hit the ground once more, this time with his arms extended. The metal shaft was firmly in his grasp, but the Heartless had a hold on it too, between two talons.

"Let…go!" Gabryl pulled and yanked at it, but the creature was stronger. Balancing on one foot, it held Gabryl and his useless weapon up, opening its maw in preparation to eat. It was glad to have such a helpless prey, and the possibility of a fresh heart. At least it would be disappointed.

Thrashing his good leg, Gabryl glared at the Heartless and spat. There was his rage, his motivation, what he needed to rely on. Logic would not help him out of here, after all; he was in a new world where more things were possible. There had to be more than one way to get out of Hell. And so Gabryl made one up. His darkness welled up, his Reaper instincts, until it focus directly into his left fist. Letting go of his scythe with that hand, the darkness pulsated and throbbed in his wrist, then knuckles, until his fingers were coated with the sleek, opaque solution of dark energy. Like countless times before, his gauntlet formed around the digits, his own claws of their own design protruding from the tips. With the routine sensation of them forming, Gabryl did not even have to look, before he plunged them into the underside of the Heartless' foot.

It shrieked in pain; the weapons Reapers were equipped with were beyond deadly, and meant to penetrate things much tougher than flesh. Black liquid, some alien blood, spurted out, and the Heartless wailed, tossing Gabryl aside to tend to itself. He smirked in triumph before landing flat on his back.

However, he would not have long. It was just a small wound, no matter how painful. Gabryl scrambled up, crawling a good distance before getting to both feet. He had been thrown away from he fire, which he noticed was pretty far, and Gabryl knew that he had likely received some brain damage from it. He assumed that was why he could not think straight. That and the severe loss of blood and general trauma in other places.

Suddenly, a familiar, monstrous roar shook the rocks under him, telling Gabryl that time was up, and he better be two steps away from the inn or his comrades. Facing his fear once more, Gabryl turned and saw the Heartless descending, meekly landing on only one foot, limping towards him in the same fashion he had been using to get away. This time, the beast would not take the chance of more pain, and began smoking at the mouth. Gabryl knew that this was not a good sign, and that long-range fighting had him outmatched. Hardly a match to begin with. He tried to turn and run, but there was too much heat in his leg. Burning, stinging…wait, no, that was the wrong leg.

Ignoring his impending doom for a second, Gabryl looked down at his thigh, expecting to see a new injury. To his surprise though, was a glow emitting from beneath his clothing. It was a round shape that he remember putting in there hours ago.

"What…Keychain?" He jammed his hand into his pocket, retrieving it, and almost dropped it. The trinket was blazing hot, enough to burn it if he did not keep moving it from one hand to the next. "Why are you…oh, shit." A loud cawing broke his fixation, and Gabryl looked back up at the enemy he had almost forgotten; its neck was arched and jaw dropped. Orange flames were swirling, and being spewed out of its mouth. Not one, but three or four fire balls were homing in on Gabryl. He could not escape these, and he knew it. All Gabryl knew to do was brace himself for the impact, and hope that having his skin fried off was not enough to kill him. Desperate, he held his hands up, crossing them over his face.

The flames came, engulfing him, leaving only a silhouette behind a red, blazing veil. The pain, the feeling of your self being charred up and reduced to black ashes, was something that Gabryl expected. It never came, however, and this confused Gabryl, who finally built up enough courage to lower his shaking arms. Swirling masses of orange and red was all that met him, giving off immense heat, the air around him quivering in waves and the heat enough to suffocate him. The inferno that had been sent to destroy Gabryl had stopped, frozen, right in front of him. No, it stopped _around_ him, affecting all outside of the diameter of his height. Gabryl checked around himself with a very stiff neck, only standing up straight when he was sure that the fire would not lash out at him. He had thought he would die exactly how many times in the past couple days? This particular encounter was just too close for comfort.

Then, he noticed a different feeling. It was pain from heat, but different, in that it was afflicting his palm, and only that. Gabryl realized that this did not make a lot of sense considering that his hand was closed, but he looked at his clenched fist, opening it- his Keychain was bright orange, searing his skin. Cursing, he quickly pinched the end of the chain and held it up that way to avoid any more injuries.

"You doing this, little guy…?" He inquired the object. As if in response, the blaze receded from behind him, an noticeable gush of cool air bursting on Gabryl's back. The fire had moved. "Okay.," He spoke, to himself this time, "I hope that wasn't a coincidence."

And as if on command, the fire pushed itself forward once more, coming down over Gabryl's head and going no higher than his shoulders. In fact the entire blaze, which had once covered him completely, had condensed itself into a large, floating sphere. The Keychain had not just saved Gabryl from being toasted, but could manipulate fire itself!

With the wall of red gone, the Heartless, still in its previous spot, could see that its meal had not in fact been properly cooked. Finally disgruntled by this point, it opened its maw and began to cook up another fireball. Gabryl promptly freaked, realizing that if he had no idea how he had stopped the attack the first time, it was very unlikely he could do it again. Brining up his Keychain, he shook it, swung it in a small circle, even blew on it to try and cool it down. Anything, he hoped, that would activate some power to stop another attack.

Apparently, he did something right eventually. In the middle of Gabryl's attempt at wringing out any existing heat from his Keychain, burning his fingers in the process, his own conceived fireball hovered up a feet, gradually, until it was twice as high up as Gabryl was tall. Gabryl saw the Heartless ready to strike, and frantically waved up at his creation, shouting expletives and jumping on his undamaged leg. Fortunately, it listened, and zoomed off, hastily, without even having to speed up. It simply fired itself off, in a perfectly straight line, arcing only when it came close to the Heartless. Gabryl's successful counterattack flew right into the monster's mouth, connecting with the other fire, and exploded on impact. There was no time for reaction, and the volatile collision tore the Heartless to smoky pieces, which in turn went up in blacker smoke moments after.

Gabryl watched in shock and awe, not noticing his Keychain die down in color and temperature. He was occupied with the glorious sight of his enemy being blown to bits, which gave him a calming satisfaction. Knowing you were not being hunted down anymore has a tendency to do that to you. He smiled a little, before falling backwards, grunting when his backside hit a rock, and doing it once more when his torso flopped down hard. His chest moved up and down, going to a steadier pace only after minutes had passed. That was when his eyes began to shut, and he saw a shadow flying overhead, blocking out the sun for a split second. He helplessly flailed his arms, but need not worry, as the figure above had already saw him, and made his way down to carry Gabryl to a place to rest.

The Inn at the outer limits of Twilight Town was not usually well-lit, mostly due to expenses and lack of working lighting fixtures, but during the night following the Raid there was no extra effort given to keep the halls and lobby illuminated. Said lobby was dark, the candle-burning chandelier pushing some shadows away, while the only electrical-based lights were the LED clock and a computer screen on Ansem's front desk. He was busy filing the usual bills, and Leyla had pulled a chair up to the opposite side, leaning onto the desk on her elbows, lazily complaining about her day. Ansem used the opportunity to get a word in when she paused to take a breath mid-rant.

"You know." He chuckled, bringing his hands form his keyboard. "It _is_ shame he made it out alive, I'm losing too much on giving out rooms."

Leyla sighed, digging a nail into the wooden arm of her chair. She had tried to put it off as long as she could, but the number one thing on her list of things to ramble on about was the new blood, and how deceiving his abilities were compared to what appeared as utter hopelessness.

"I mean _shit_. I found him how many _days_ ago? Didn't know how to fly or probably even fight, then the kid takes down a Tailbunker?" She was plenty shocked, but angry.

"Perhaps he just has some misplaced potential." Ansem commented, closing out his programs with a few clicks. "I recall you being quite the timid one when you first showed up."

"Yeah, _well_." Leyla spat, standing, and crossing her arms defiantly. "I had help! Good help, at least. Luke was always there, then you got Medea in, and…" She paused, searching for another name in her memory.

"Mm?" Ansem inquired. "Not as if much has changed. Gabryl can educate himself here with the same group of friends you did, essentially."

Leyla was visually displeased with his choice of words, and turned around quickly, head bowed. She mumbled, or just growled, for a few seconds before pacing to the other side of the room. Ansem watched her fade into the shadows, and rolled his eyes. She was becoming much harder to handle, and he would not be able to keep up such a pleasant persona for her at this rate. He could sympathize to only a certain extent. As he made his way towards the stairs, she stomped back into view, arms uncrossed and stuck to her sides.

"He isn't my friend, for one."

"Of course."

"_No_. And it won't be the same. He's stupid, I wasn't. I…_we_ had potential, not this kid."

"You keep calling him that, though he must be around your age-"

"Stop that. Don't ignore the problem."

Ansem sighed and started to climb the staircase. In a rare case, he was getting the smallest bit annoyed, and was glad he did not hear a second pair of footsteps behind him. Leyla remained on the ground floor, picking at the wooden railing. There was a periodic, light, cracking noise from sound of her nail between his steps that told him she was still there.

"I'm not ignoring the problem." He called down to her, though not loud enough as to wake his customers. "The dilemma is that you haven't warmed up to change yet, and it is having a negative effect on all of us. Particularly you."

The soft sound of wood splints being peeled ceased when he stopped speaking. Ansem had to look back down just to check that Leyla had not left. Her shadowy form was still visible from the light of his desk lamp, that he left on. Content, he crossed the balcony, heavy eyes only widening to check that he had reached his room. His hand grabbed the doorknob, and he turned it, only to hear Leyla rushing to the other side of the lobby, closest to him. She whispered up to him.

"I'm going out."

Her hushed voice made it hard to read her tone. It was like she was just trying to be silent, but there was something held back. That was hardly surprising, but Leyla was often more reserved, and never came close to cracking when it came to digging up shells of emotions. These after-hours outings had become an expected occurrence, though he had no idea where she went. Ansem heard her go for the door, solemnly, and he peeked his head over the railing.

"Don't talk to any strangers."

"Man, he bleeds a lot."

"Wasn't very warmed up to fighting, was he though? Give him a couple more times in the field and he won't go off like a hose."

"Ew…still looks nasty. Remind me to watch out for those things."

Gabryl felt something disturbing the wound on his left leg. Tugging at the limb, the sting of air hitting the open gash, it was all discomforting, but not something to go unnoticed. First of all, last his memory could recall, he was in the middle of a desert. Where he was felt much more comfortable, soft, and air-conditioned. The latter felt best on his burned portions of skin.

"…Hey." He said, tiredly, propping himself on one arm. Slowly, his eyes opened, so he could see the source of the voices, and his surroundings. It was his room at the inn, most notably his itchy bed, laying perpendicularly on it with the bottom part of his body hanging off. The pillows his back was supported by felt infinitely better than any rocks though, and he was thankful. Gabryl tried to pull himself upward, but felt that his leg was being held. Medea looked up at him from his damaged shin, she was sitting on a chair at the edge of the bed not against the wall, a roll of medical gauze, his leg on her lap and wedged beneath her elbow at the knee.

"Careful Gabe." She said sternly. The pet name did not seem to imply any motherly nature, as she was holding his leg fairly tight. Raimyd, seated at the room's table, tossed a balled-up mass of bandages on the bed. Gabryl picked it up and looked at it, wincing. It was decorated with blotchy patterns of dark red ad brown, his own blood. That was from the last attempt to fix his leg, not too long ago.

"Ya know." Raimyd droned, putting his feet up on the mattress. "I figured we start to bleed less once the healing picks up."

Gabryl was clueless and he had just started talking.

"But, like, you're gushing the stuff. Haven't you been dead for a while? Never get in a fight?"

It was a stupid question, but of course Gabryl had been involved in fights. His form of weapon meant he would always deal with reaping hearts from stabbed, impaled, or otherwise run-through victims. It was inevitable that a knife knick him or some piece or machinery take a small chunk out of his arm. Long as he disinfected it and left his injuries alone for a couple weeks though, it was fine. Not every day giant birds try to eat you though.

"Enough, Rai." Medea said, not even looking up to acknowledge his rudeness.

"What? I mean if I stabbed you, barely anything would come out-"

"I said shut it."

"Wait, wait, wait." Gabryl intervened frantically. "How long…was I asleep? Do…do I have anemia now?"

The other two rolled their eyes, and Medea started wrapping the fabric firmly around his leg. Raimyd got up and came to the bed, tossing the old bunch of bandages into the plastic garbage bin.

"Nooo." He said. "We can't die conventionally, right? I'm just sayin' that your body gets accustomed to the change after a while. Doesn't work the way it used to. Bleeding less, yeah. You sleep less, too. Eventually we really turn into the 'undead', heh."

"That doesn't sound too…great." Gabryl did not care much for turning into a zombie.

"No biggie." Medea rationalized, pointing to the half-covered injury. "Look, it's already starting to work. I swear we could see down to the bone before. Something like that doesn't get better in a few hours."

Gabryl tried to lift his limb, feeling some strength return but unable to bend his leg without experiencing some pain. He figured that some connecting muscle was torn.

"I'll just stay off it for…a few hours? How long was I sleeping, anyway?"

Medea tightened the gauze, then clipped it with a small metal pin. She wiped her hands off on her pants and got up. Raimyd turned his head towards the clock, running some numbers in his head.

"Uh, les'see. Came back around noon, and it's just real early in the morning now, so." He gave up out of exhaustion. "Hell, it's tomorrow."

"…Thanks." Gabryl said, flatly, checking the clock himself. He could tell it was dark from the window, but he had only assumed it was the night of his fight. Apparently it was a good while later, a quarter past three in the morning. Almost a full day since he took off before. "Uh, think I'd prefer to get up, had enough sleep for today."

He shifted to a more composed position, and Raimyd offered his hand to pull him up. Balancing on his right leg, Gabryl limped towards the door, stretching his arms. Medea had opened it already and was standing in the silent, black hallway.

"Thanks guys." Gabryl said, a little meekly. He was surprised how used to this new crowd that he had gotten that he would ahead and be so polite. "Feel kind of restless. Might go outside or something."

"Aight man." Raimyd replied, walking alongside him. His own room was in the hallway parallel to the one they were in, across the balcony in the lobby. Medea waved goodbye as she headed in the opposite direction. "Got your chain?" He added on, smirking. Gabryl smiled to himself.

"Couldn't forget it now." True enough, he was aware of the piece in his pocket continuously since his waking up. It was in the side of his trousers that had not been shredded, so there was no worry of it falling out of any holes.

"Cool. Would suck to lose you like that after a day like this."

"Don't worry about it. Feel like I could take on an Angel anyway." He waved his hand through the air in a meek punching motion.

"I'm sure they'd do more than just cut you up a little, heh."

"Yeah, but I think I'd rather die then have to get cut up a hundred times more like this."

Gabryl lurched forward with an misplaced limp, and they both chuckled.

"Could be worse, meh." Raimyd said off-handedly. It sounded like some hypothetical, reassuring comment, but something in his tone made Gabryl curious.

"Mm? Ever get hit worse?"

Raimyd shrugged. They turned the corner into the other hallway, and slowed. His room was only the second one on the right.

"Guess you could say that. Happened not too long ago, actually."

It was still dark, with no one around. Raimyd scratched his arm through a tight sweatshirt, and crossed his arms over his stomach. Being in a building where a large amount of people stayed did not restrain him from pulling his shirt off. Gabryl had to adjust his eyes to his pale skin, but the abnormality that he was meant to see stuck out immediately.

His left arm, from his shoulder to the back of his elbow, was undoubtedly scarred and burned. A rim of brown, charred skin surrounded the area of a large, sickeningly white patch of what used to be the dermis. Raimyd winced a little, as did Gabryl, when he flexed the arm, showing it off. It was en eerily unnatural looking injury, and the fact that Raimyd looked at it so calmly, made Gabryl think it was not even real.

"Shit, Rai, I…where did that come from?"

Raimyd looked his critical burn over a few more times, brushed it off, and looked up.

"Yesterday, when that Heartless snuck up on us. Pushed you out of the way, remember?"

He did very well. If it was not for that, Gabryl's whole body would probably look like that arm.

"…Y-yeah."

"Can't believe it, too. We should've seen that thing coming a mile away. Kills me. Ugh. Someday we'll find Keychains with a GPS on it or something…"

"You should probably cover that."

"Huh? Oh, right. Was gonna when we got back, but Medea insisted we take a look at you. She didn't want to just leave you alone, but she wanted someone to talk to."

"Oh, sorry. Didn't it hurt a lot, though?"

"Somethin' like this? Nah, the nerves got all burned off. Just bugs me a little around the edges."

Raimyd pulled a key from his pocket, and clumsily guided it to the keyhole on his door. He pushed it open with a creak, and tossed his sweatshirt in. The thump it landed with made it seem like he just threw it on the floor.

"Have fun." He said, walking in. "Don't hurt yourself anymore."

"Aheh, sure." Gabryl said back. Before he could close the door, though, he felt the need to add on. "And uh, hey, thanks for taking a bullet for me then, I guess."

Raimyd looked over his shoulder, and blinked.

"No problem, it'll get better. Besides, I'd rather get a few hundred burns then get killed."

He closed the door, having said his farewell. Gabryl stood for a minute, bounding on his foot to keep some pressure off the other. Raimyd had saved him from being fried and took such a hit, yet held no ill will towards him for it being his fault. Was he being kind, or did he seriously not care about the third-degree burn that had gone to the bone? Regardless, Gabryl and his little claw mark suddenly felt very insignificant.

Insignificant enough that he felt like he was not even in enough pain to limp anymore. After all, Raimyd showed no signs of agony or a want to apply anything that would repair his arm. Sure, they had said Reapers heal faster, but being injured like that had to hit your pride at least a little. Grating his teeth together, Gabryl took full steps using his left leg, evening going as far as putting extra weight on it. It hurt, but then again it could have been worse, and he found enough humor in his situation to grimace. Pride; now there was something he needed to build up. Without it people like Leyla would keep hating on him.

Gabryl could just forget about that now, though. He knew a good place to relax, and going outside meant he could just fly, without having to punish his leg from loss of confidence. It was a physical relief, and calmed the mind as well. At this hour in the morning, there would be nearly no one out. Sure, some cars might be headed towards the train station, in an attempt to catch a ride to work, but the sidewalks would be empty, especially in the park and near the Chapel. That was where he intended to go.

Birds chirped and cawed, their black, darting figures almost lost against the dark purple sky. Gabryl kept his eyes glued upwards as he floated towards the Chapel Hearts, not worried about crashing into anything. He held some slight disappointment that no one was around; he could go for one of those ice cream bars. The night sky was slowly morphing into that of the morning, indicated by a pinkish-red splatter on the horizon far away, past the Chapel, dispelling the darkness. The sun would rise directly behind the clock tower. At least it would not get in his eyes while he sat up there, pondering over his experiences and maybe taking a nap. Sure, he felt energized form his prolonged sleep, but it still did not feel quite right to be up at this hour. Happy not to take the dusty, old, and most likely unsafe stairs, Gabryl took his time flying up. A chilling breeze blew right into his face shortly before he reached the ledge under the clock, and gave him a soothing sensation that almost made him fall backwards. The seasons were changing quickly over the past few days. Less than a month and it would be winter.

Gabryl let himself rise above his destination before landing flatly on one side of the uppermost level of the tower. He walked carefully around the corner, to let his legs dangle off the ledge like he had two days ago with Raimyd. Only problem was that he would not be as alone as he thought he would this time around. It surprised Gabryl to see a person sitting in his place already, hunched over, long hair blowing in the persisting autumn breeze. Gabryl heard the person sigh before he could even tell who it was, and ironically it was that sigh that enlightened him a moment later.

"Oh, hey." He said to Leyla, clearing his throat and leaning on the wall. He felt like taking a place next to her would be too bold.

She sighed again, heavier, probably because he had bothered to say something rather than just jump off the building.

"Why," Leyla began, monotone, pausing to take a deep breath of the cool air, "here?"

Gabryl rolled his eyes, feeling strangely used to her brand of insults. He started to walk over.

"Seemed like a nice place."

There was no change in her expression. Her orange eyes were deep, and Gabryl expected they were thoughtful in their own way. She eventually turned, barely, not moving a strand of hair that laid over her lips.

"Was a little more peaceful, until you came."

"I'm sure it was."

Taken back by his response, Gabryl kept his gaze downward, to his right, not letting any eye contact happen between them. She was trying to put him down, yeah, but for some reason Gabryl felt like he could put up with it, or even say some shit right back at her. That energy he felt before was still inside him; he said before that he could take out an Angel with that surge of strength. Leyla would have to do for now.

Leyla huffed out of discontent. eyes narrowing. She looked forward sternly. Gabryl decided to push the conversation on.

"Do you have some sort of problem with me?"

She still kept her increasingly hostile, yet reserved, stare on the buildings in the distance.

"What," Leyla said in an unnaturally flat voice, "ever gave you that idea?"

Gabryl brought himself to sit quickly, landing on the ledge with one of his knees folded to his chest. He rested an elbow on it, and looked directly at her. Leyla caught the challenging expression, and remained half-turned.

"If you're this way all the time, I doubt you'd be keeping the friends you have now."

He hit a nerve. Leyla's left hand gripped the stone that they stood on, grating the hard surface with her nails through the leather glove. Gabryl felt his blood run cold, realizing that he may have gone to far and just pissed her off too early. No build up; angering her right now was way too irresponsible. Yet, Leyla controlled herself.

"…_and it is having a negative effect on all of us. Particularly you._"

She really had not always been like this. Leyla was not always the most pleasant person, but she was fully aware she had become more intolerable in the past few days, possibly even before that.

Gabryl was thinking less, and acting more out of fear of being scolded, or mutilated.

"I didn't do _anything_- at least on purpose. Am I messing up now? Tell me that. Let me fix it or something." He was beginning to clench his jaw just as much as Leyla had. "Don't you think I'd rather not have to deal with this shit? Rai and Medea took me in fine, the hell is up with you?"

Leyla opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was a sharp croak form the back of her throat. She had no idea what to say anyway, but hoped her brain would impulsively put together something. Gabryl, however, was a lot quicker on the draw.

"If we didn't see each other much then it'd be different, but…we're almost friends or something, aren't we?" Gabryl felt a muscle tighten in his neck, frightened over use of the word. "I mean, through everyone else. We live close, apparently hang out in the same places, same _sky_ over our heads right?"

His head was thumping very fast. Too many things being said at once. Gabryl paused to catch his breath, and he saw Leyla hunched over further than usual, biting at some of the material of the glove on her other hand. He was afraid he had said too much, or too harshly, but was constantly reminded how spiteful she had been to him in the short amount of time he knew her. It felt so unforgivable.

"I…" Was all she could get out before Gabryl continued his rant.

"Was it…that guy? That guy who died before you-" He scowled, "_attacked_ me? I had nothing to do with that! He was your friend or something right, and you take that out on me?"

He was shaking. There was no feeling in one of his hands, and his feet were numb. Some wind blew, brushing both of them, and it sounded louder than the previous gusts. Neither knew if it really was or if it was just the silence between his outbursts.

Gabryl has hardly noticed how Leyla seemed to deteriorate into some curled-up mess as he was shouting. Like a child being yelled at, afraid to say anything. He would say she looked like she could be sobbing if he did not know they were unable to. The tip of her thumb was in her mouth, damp from chewing and minor sucking. He was genuinely surprised that Leyla would even allow herself to look that way in front of him, as she had appeared as this intimidating, authoritative, generally violent figure. None of that was there now. He had succeeded in breaking down the person who had been messing up his new haven, but it really did not feel as good to him as he thought it would.

"I didn't mean to do anything, don't act like I did!" He said, voice beginning to weaken. Gabryl noticed how clammy his forehead had gotten, and knew that he would not be able to say anything more without repeating what he already yelled. He just wanted to make a point, not seem insecure.

Which Leyla had not begun to see him as. She knew he was right. Nothing was really his fault, except for being someplace at the wrong time. Bad timing and _incompetence_- she stopped her train of thought and took a deep, shuddering breath. It concerned her that said breath had been too loud, or just obvious, and would make him think she was weak and helpless just because someone had raised their voice at her. No, she was better than that and knew it. Normally she would be shouting right back at him, but some semblance of feelings or bits of emotion were block everything. It literally made her sick, especially since she knew none of it was real.

"Y-yeah." Leyla stuttered, trying to form a coherent sentence. There was too much going on in her head, she felt feverish and distant. Gabryl noticed how flushed her cheeks were and gulped.

"…Yeah what?"

Leyla bit on her thumb harder, wishing the pain would snap her out of her bemused trance.

"You- you weren't meant to be there."

Another breeze tussled the trees below, cool enough to soothe Leyla's cheeks and keep Gabryl from passing out. The confrontation had a heavy toll on both their minds.

"Mmisn't fair fer you." She continued, gnawing further on the leather. Thinking she sounded too kind she removed it and revisited her words. "Isn't fair for either of us. Them either, those other guys."

Gabryl hunched himself over, like she had before nearly curling up. There was suddenly a lot more guilt pressing on his back; he thought that he was too timid to ever make accusations like that and live to reflect on it.

"No, look, I really don't-"

"Shut up." Leyla snapped. She had no intention of letting him apologize after that spontaneous lashing. Nothing stopped her from offering her side of the story. "You just said I overreacted to everything, and wouldn't drop it. Yeah. But…there's more to it than that."

"I figured." Gabryl said, half to himself, scratching his head. The mood had somehow lightened. "All of you guys seemed to like him anyway, and I guess you didn't want him replaced."

"Brilliant."

"Well you're not very subtle in the first place."

Neither said anything for a while. Orange and pink light from the sun started to creep over the Chapel and its tower, above them, and render a few stars unseen. People could be seen in the park now, couples walking and health fanatics jogging in sleeveless shirts in the autumn chill. It made Gabryl rub the one leg that did not have the pleasure of being warmed by bandages, revealed by burned clothes. The sound of birds became much more evident, as did the cars engines that drowned them out.

Both sat in darkness even with the awakening town, the Chapel Hearts aligned perfectly with the sun and a shadow showing no signs of disappearing until noon. It made them feel colder, and farther away from the people, much more than any normal day. Each had reasons not to return to the inn, and not to leave from their spots. Perhaps some pride, or the human want to have each others company. All they felt was that they were stuck.

"Was he, uh, was he really that special to you guys?" Gabryl said, an hour of the atmosphere bored him senseless.

Leyla glanced at him, then in the opposite direction. She breathed deeply again, like she had when disturbed by his shouting.

"He was. Really. We don't exaggerate anything about him."

Gabryl could not find words to form a response, he suddenly felt as if he would be disrespectful if he was not careful. He watched the trees, crowned golden by the enveloping sunlight, begin to rustle, signaling more wind. He braced his bare arms against the cold by crossing them, feeling the bumps forming. Leyla turned to him again, wondering why he had not responded, to see him in this shivering state. Staring at his mouth, expecting words to come out soon, she saw his jaw twitch. He was cold and his teeth had just begun to chatter in the slightest, so she looked away. There was this strange level of reverence she had gained for him in a short amount of time. Something in her did not was to tarnish it.

Gabryl noticed her head turned abruptly when his teeth first clacked, and realized he had stopped speaking in his wane. Using a hand to stroke his cheek for warmth, he decided to make what embers remained in the conversation to heat up.

It seemed appropriate to address the obvious.

"Were you two, close?" He asked.

"Heh," Leyla chuckled, in a single short sound, "closer to each other than anyone else, I guess."

"Oh." Gabryl said, looking off to the side. He had started to get that idea-

"No, idiot." She shot at him, seeing his blank expression. "He was my brother."

Gabryl smacked himself in the head mentally. It was rude of him to make the assumption, really, but it was surprising that she read him that well.

"Can't expect romance to even work in the first place…never mind." She rolled her eyes, and placed her hands on her lap. "We were close, though. Um." She cleared her throat. "We uh, died in the same accident."

Gabryl kept nodding, legitimately interested. Leyla was taken back by the attention she was receiving in recalling her sibling. She had no exact idea why she was opening up so much, but it helped. There was definitely a weight lessening its hold on her, so she would go with it.

"He was older, like a year, helpful. That kind of stuff." Yeah, was not get that personal with Gabryl. "Medea and the others always liked him. Nothing really not to like I guess."

Her audience nodded, taking in her words like ambrosia. Gabryl has getting that warm feeling of acceptance in his stomach again, and it was comforting. Then he remembered that he was still very cold and a mental warmth would not be doing anything to help him.

"He just…tried doing too much about a year ago." She saw Gabryl shaking, which was actually easier to spot than Gabryl had thought. "…And uh, yeah, he left the other morning and I went after him and, yeah." Leyla pulled the silver Keychain out of her pocket, and let it hang in front of her eyes. "We shared it. I was stupid that day. _He_ left without it, and I went after him. How did _I_ not die? And then you're there, with the same chain, heh." She gave an almost scary laugh with a sarcastic smirk.

Gabryl watched the Keychain too, dangling in the breeze. This was something he realized for a while; both the brother and sister would be dead if he had not been there, who knows if Leyla would have run into someone else in time. After all, that Angel had been right on top of them.

"I guess we should've just both died, just like how it started."

They both stared into the park. Leyla had been recalling her brother for longer than it felt like. She had some trouble remember things, likely she was too clouded by grief to bring up those memories immediately.

Twenty minutes later, more wind convinced Gabryl was going to catch pneumonia. Leyla finally had to pay mind to his shivering as she went to pull her hood up.

"Cold?"

"What was your first clue?" He said, sniffing.

"I bet he had something that fits you." Leyla told him, standing. "You can _borrow_ some pants or something, at least." She motioned to his legs.

"Oh, th-thanks." It felt weird to him that the stammering was genuine.

"I mean damn it, I've seen more of you in the past two days than I ever wanted to in my life…" She put her hand over her eyes as he stood up. "Yeah, I'm sure he wouldn't mind."

Gabryl nodded, and tried to straighten his icy limbs. It was difficult and he had forgotten he had a limp from his gash. As a result he tripped, floating gently by his wings, a foot still touching the ledge of the tower. He glared at the ground, nauseated, realizing he was more accident-prone dead than alive. Leyla joined him in the sky, transitioning to flying without a hitch, nearly walking into the air.

"How am I even alive." Gabryl asked to himself, out loud. Hell he could tell he had caught some terrible cold already by the mucus sloshing around in his forehead.

"Well, you're already dead once." She grabbed his arm and yanked him up, albeit a touch violently. That was the kind of joke from him she could laugh at, if she felt close enough to show such an emotion. She was still beating herself some for smiling just barely before. "I don't know, learn from your mistakes or something."

"Yeah, 'stop falling off buildings' was something I never got quite right before I died either."

"Is that some kind of ironic joke about you?"

"Maybe."

Truth be told Gabryl just said something he thought was funny and went on with it. If it made him seem more interesting though, then who was he to complain.

The pair ascended and flew back towards the inn, taking the same path Raimyd had escorted Gabryl on a couple days back. The high viewpoint had such an amazing effect, from seeing the patterns roads made and the now ant-like train, to the mere, long shadows cast by the buildings. This time Twilight Town was just waking up however, changing in different ways, the color scheme alone from the rising sun making it look like a new place.

"Gabryl, one more thing, then I'll cut the depressing crap."

Oh boy he was glad to hear that.

"Yeah?"

Leyla sped up, coming right to his side. She pushed her flowing hair out of her face, on the other side of her head, and made what seemed a serious attempt to coax a truthful answer from him. She was even the slightest bit refined in her speaking.

"You said you were there when Lucre died, right?"

"I um, saw it, yes."

"Did he, before that happened," her eyes met his for a second, as if to sincerely ask, "say anything? Like, mention me or anyone else or just, something."

Gabryl felt bad about his answer, but also felt horrible in his realization that she really had no idea what went down when her brother was killed. He was just an eyewitness to the event, maybe a grave robber to some extent, but that was it.

"Oh, eh. Not really, no. I didn't really get to know him or anything…I just kind of saw it."

Any ounce of hopefulness hat had managed to fill Leyla's face went away.

"I was just watching. I found the Keychain when it happened, but we never really spoke. I would have, it's just…"

"No, don't worry." She said. "Might be better that way, or something. I don't know."

He tired to usher in some of that good, morbid humor again.

"Besides, if we had the time to have a conversation, that Angel would have had time to kill me too." He gave a small smile, wanting to cheer her up without sounding like he was taking humor out of the worst kind of situation. Feeling his secret, that black Keychain he found on the smeared concrete, did not make him anymore lighthearted.

"…Yeah." Leyla said, coughing. "Yeah, you're right. If you guys ended up talking I wouldn't know anything."

Gabryl nodded, and stretched his back, folding his arms behind his head.

"I don't want to be a placeholder or anything, though. I appreciate being let in."

"Don't worry, you're not about to be the next Luke."

Her head was turned when she said that, and the wind at this height, at their speed, muffled her words mostly. Gabryl was unable to tell if she was trying to be funny. He pretended she had not said it.

"Mmhmm. Nice to make friends after all this time. You guys are tight, wish I had that before."

Leyla remained turned to her left, even though her neck was cramping up. She felt a little overwhelmed. Not by how peaceful she had managed to be with someone she previously despised, and maybe a little form talking about Lucre, but mainly from what Gabryl had said. Friends. Collectively. She looked ahead to the inn, homing in on it. That was where they all lived, collectively, she and her friends, and her brother before. Now he was here, not taking his place, but starting something new. With all her might she would remember that.

She did not look at Gabryl in the eyes again that day, and went directly to her room upon arriving. Leyla finally fell asleep around ten in the morning, sprawled uncomfortably on her bed, words having repeated themselves on her lips, not leaving, until she slept. What she had been told before was correct, though accepting proved difficult.

"_He's my friend now, damnit, he is._"


	7. Plans

And boom! The hiatus is over. Or at least until I take too long for the next chapter, hmm. Hope that the readers out there enjoy; I've been inspired as of late and I'm really going to gun for more chapters at a better rate. Then again, like two months a chapter would be a better rate, huh? Heh, I can assure you all though, that I'm working hard. ^^

VII - Plans

It is said that even in a heart teeming with light, justice, and good emotions, there will always be a speck of darkness dwelling in its deepest confines. Being purely light, while perceived as something righteous and positive, is unnatural for any living thing. The Reapers of Twilight Town, living in a particular building, knew this as fact. The distinctive magic and abilities used by the Angels made this apparent; something seen as "good" used to destroy and oppress. And kill. And drain the very hope that was all they had left.

The reverse was true as well. A heart stained by evil could never blot out that last bit of light. The potential of light is infinite even with the darkness surrounding it. One person who knew this best was the Archangel, having learned with decades of experience, just how tortuous that light could be. That tiny, infinitesimal remain in the heart can tear one to shreds, light or dark, good or evil. It can be unexpected, and with unprecedented results.

And just like the hearts of man was Hollow Bastion. The old castle, a silent sentinel among the flat landscape, which housed far more secrets than one could ever imagine. Secrets that nearly brought it to life. In its depths, beneath the endless hallways and odd, was a very plain, but very different room. Blindingly white, cylindrical in shape, the stark cleanliness made it unbelievable that it was located in a building so scarred by time. More perplexing were the individuals present in the room, seven of them, all seated in towering thrones. Each of the chairs were white as well, with the only real contrasting color in the room being of those sitting. Five of them were dressed in black cloaks, tightly bound to their bodies by studded belts and padding. The gothic style was uniform for Angels, as were the white, feathered wings on their backs.

Three of the cloaked figures had their faces concealed by hoods. Another, head uncovered, tilted his head towards the throne to his right. It was far taller than his own, but the height was justified, as it was the throne of the Archangel, the very leader of the gathered Angels.

Said lesser Angel pulled himself from his reclined position, and ran a hand through his graying hair. He was disappointed to have left the scene of the 'battle', as he was having such a good time offing any Reapers unfortunate enough to wander into his path. He had hoped to take out more than ever during this Raid, but of course, a meeting was called to interrupt his pleasures.

"So," he called up, "what gives?"

The Archangel looked down, hollow eyes observing the subordinates through a black visor. One distinguishable thing setting the Archangel apart from the others was a suit of armor that covered their body entirely; a number of obviously old metal plates, mail underneath clacking with every slight movement. Both intimidating and curious with extraneous parts jutting up from the helmet. It was an odd choice of wardrobe, though it made the wearer very safe in battle.

"The reason, Braig," The Archangel responded, voice flat and booming, "is that I felt a presence here."

None down below looked very impressed. Surely their leader was already aware of the Reapers' invasion. They had known in advance for weeks.

"…A _particular_ one." The Archangel concluded, accenting surmountable distaste at their reactions.

"Oooh. The experiment reached your expectations, Superior?" Piqued one of the hooded Angels. His elbows were propped on his arm rests, fingers weaved together below his chin. He had an icy tone; sinister, and ecstatically cunning.

"Yes. The plan is finally coming to fruition. There is little time left before my goal has been reached." The Superior then looked across the room, the black glass of the visor settling on another throne. It was far lower than any of the others, and its occupant was different as well, being the only person other than the Archangel not wearing the usual black cloak.

"My apologies, Vanitas. It is 'our' plan, after all, is it not?"

The oddly dressed Angel kept his helmet on, avoiding the eyes of his peers. Vanitas nodded a little, head leaning on one hand.

"And I have the utmost confidence that all will go to your accordance, Superior." Added on the very eager Angel from before.

"Should all the pieces fall into place, yes." The Archangel sighed, raising a hand. "And your part has been played, quite well. I believe what matters at the current is Ienzo's progress."

The second Angel without a hood shifted in place, crossing his arms as the party's attention was brought to him. He brushed a length of silver hair that hung in front of his eye out of the way. It fell back as he began to speak.

"Due to the recent…intrusion. Yes, Superior, I was able to gather data."

"On that _other_ specimen?" Sneered the shrill, hooded Angel. "A waste of time."

"Even, if you would be so kind." Ienzo said through his teeth. "I've been able to deduce a significant change in psyche. Some sort of, if you'd pardon the choice of words, emotional change."

"Why does this matter?" Asked the Archangel. "Do you believe that one of them feeling something that resembles emotion could mean harm?"

"Superior." Ienzo began. "While I am ever-so pleased with Even's success in the replica department, I believe that there are certain limitations. They cannot be trusted to such an extent. Our goal should be taking advantage of a natural being, something or someone already on the inside. We manipulate that and half of the work is done for us ahead of time. Odds of failure are comfortably low."

Even was on the edge of his seat, fingers curling over the arm rests.

"Inconceivable! What I've managed to create is a much more controllable variable."

"It is unstable. _Un_controllable. The previous time this technology was used it-"

"Both of you." Sighed another hooded Angel. "Completely underestimate the power of a heart, you know."

"Ah, but that isn't what we're dealing with, is it? Not a true…" Even looked towards Vanitas, who sat quietly, watching the two quarrel. "Not normal beings, am I correct?"

"You are correct, in that." Said the Archangel, growing tired of the feud. "But, neither of you are completely aware of what you are delving into. You must take into account the level of unpredictability. A heart is not something you can ever take a complete hold of."

"Superior." Even pleaded, struggling to make his point, and ignoring the piece of advice. "What makes this project so special, you see, is how intricately we were able to manufacture certain elements, what strings to pull, you know this! If it were not for your input, this project would be impossible."

The Archangel nodded continuously. "Yes, yes. We discussed this earlier. That is why I am allowing you to put our experiment into the field."

Even was taken back, but delighted, a devious smirk forming on his face. Ienzo, however, was ready to stand in his seat. His eyes, one still covered by hair, were wide in rage and disbelief.

"But, Superior, I have data regarding the work I've completed. If you'll only see what I've been able to accomplish in testing, surely you can reconsider."

His leader looked upon him, and Ienzo was, to an extent, worried he acted to rash.

"You feel as if your own experiment will yield useful results?"

"Yes, Superior." He was nervous now, knowing that this was the point of no return. "P-prior research h-has proven this."

"And, should I allow this to continue, will your plans not interfere with my own?"

Ienzo blinked, and looked to his left, to the third hooded Angel, the tallest and bulkiest of those in uniform. A couple of short nods were exchanged.

"…None whatsoever, Superior."

"Very well then. You have my permission."

The room went quiet. One Angel was thrilled, another outraged at his leader's carelessness. A third just wanted to leave, maybe take a nap. The Archangel did not really care or notice any of these attitudes, and only leaned forward, gold-tinted wings stretching out.

"Even, later we will arrange the conditions for the experiment to be released."

The scientist Angel nodded, and disappeared as a bright column of light took his place. The light died out a moment later, throne empty and unscathed.

"The rest of you are dismissed. Vanitas, remain at the castle until tomorrow. A few tests need to be run regarding the new creation."

The helmed Angel lowered his head, acknowledging with some half-nod, and teleported away from the white room in his own flash, followed by Braig and the two other hooded Angels. Only Ienzo remained, who began to raise his own hood.

"You're certain your plan won't intervene?" The Archangel asked, catching Ienzo by surprise.

"Oh, ah, yes." Ienzo said, clearing his throat. "You'd be surprised, in fact, of the precautionary steps I took. If they were in the same room together, compromising interactions would be at an improbable."

"Interesting." Stated the Superior. There was momentary silence. "I imagine you were hasty and have already begun work?"

Ienzo felt blood go to his cheeks, his bluff having been called.

"Ahem, well, Superior, things have already started rolling, yes, but I assure you this had was not me acting out of line. The seeds that have been planted have not ended up this way by my hand. My test subject, that Reaper, has been a pawn for the last few years and has been completely oblivious to it."

Raimyd heard the squeaky hinges on the front door that signaled its opening, and winced when sunlight suddenly gushed into the lobby. Mornings were not exactly his thing; that gross, orange dawn always made him want to return to bed.

Those that caused this small moment of discomfort for Raimyd were of course acquaintances of his, meaning he would be sucked into conversation with them while his head was still groggy. The newspaper held in front of his face did nothing to trick Leyla, who took the seat across from him. Gabryl followed, seating himself between the two of them at the round table.

"So, you guys enjoy your morning stroll together?" Raimyd asked, the first resentful comment of the day. He set down the paper, half a bagel had been concealed by it, slathered in jelly.

Leyla stared at it, then crossed an arm over her own stomach, showing hunger, perhaps even as a way to ask for some baked goods of her own.

"Well, really, half of it was flying." Gabryl quipped. He had come to realize that the heaping amounts of sarcasm exchanged around his new home required he start being a smart ass as well. But, much to his dismay, the other two Reapers just saw it as him idiotically stating something. Maybe he needed to be a higher-class sardonic.

"Lot more empty this morning, you notice?" Raimyd said, glancing around the room. A handful of Reapers were lounging around, but all were in low spirits. They sat in clusters, in tattered clothing, with solemn expressions. It was the polar opposite of the loud, quarreling crowds that had filled the same room twenty-four hours earlier.

"It's just been a day. Few guys might be coming in late, or sleeping now. I would be." Leyla reasoned, though she was not too sure herself.

"Mm, we'll see."

"Why, are you implying anything?"

Raimyd sighed heavily, leaning his head back, and letting it hang over the back of his chair.

"Not…really. I mean, what's there to be suspicious about? That all of them are dead? If we made it out then plenty of others should be fine."

"I thought we were smarter." Gabryl said, a little quieter than he would have liked. He felt as if he had said something appropriate, and was hoping for a positive reaction, but there was only an uncomfortable silence. Raimyd rolled his eyes, while Leyla leaned forward, looking Gabryl over for a moment before starring at the ceiling.

"But it helps them having giant birds chase down anyone, I guess." He added, forcing a smirk.

"Yeah, Heartless are a problem too." Raimyd nodded, "'specially since they started popping up around town, like that one the other day. Can't have those things wrecking too much havoc around here. Last thing we want is for them to take out too many of us."

"Why?" Gabryl asked. He felt a little dumb asking why it was bad for his fellow Reapers to get clawed to pieces, but it seemed so strange that Raimyd would care in the first place.

"We-ell." Raimyd began, clearing his throat. He apparently took the question well. "Death by Heartless isn't a natural way to go. They themselves are just corrupted hearts, the leftovers of anything we don't harvest in time."

"And Reapers are their favorite food." Chuckled Leyla.

"They got this instinctual hatred for Reapers, which is why the Angels use them as bodyguards. If that Neoshadow back there got to you, their darkness would've turned you into one of them. That's all they do; eat and multiply."

"Eat and…multiply?" Gabryl wondered, blinking. He looked back and forth between them. "So, what, if we're not killing anyone then they do instead?"

"Pretty much it, bud."

"Yep."

The shock set in for Gabryl when he thought back to that week of fasting from killing. All of that pain he felt, for his will and remorse of taking lives- was it all for naught? Those creatures were just taking his place, and doing even more harm.

"Well!" He shouted, making the other two jump. "Well…that isn't right. They're just making things worse, and if they make more Heartless they'll keep doing more and more damage. Why can't we do something about it?"

Raimyd rolled his eyes, and took a bite out of his breakfast.

"They make our jobs easier."

"No they don't." Gabryl argued. "They just make more monsters that'll try to kill us."

Another bite of his food, and Raimyd sighed. As if he had some kind of philosophical, insightful reason to bolster his point. Something that might change Gabryl's mind if he told him, if only his priorities were not preoccupied with eating. However, right when he had swallowed the last bit of his meal, Leyla managed to usurp the conversation from him.

"Could be a fun way to spend a night, you know, hunting for a few of the things." She offered. Gabryl nodded rapidly; it was weird for her to be suggesting some form of recreation, but it was an idea that was in his favor for once.

"Yeah. I don't know, I could get better at fighting maybe?" He added on.

"Sure. C'mon, Rai, give him a break. I did see you slacking back at the castle before."

He groaned under his breath distastefully at the comment, and shifted in his chair.

"Can I go back to bed for a few hours, at least?"

Leyla stood up and walked around the table, lightly slapping him on the side of his head with the back of her hand as she passed. Again, to his distaste.

"We'll leave at dusk, how's that? You can sleep all day."

"I do like the idea of being nocturnal."

"So do I, I wouldn't have to see you all day." She let the corner of her mouth jut up in a smirk a moment before she turned to Gabryl. "Let's let him rest. I'm gonna go tell Ansem that we'll be leaving later."

Gabryl bid her farewell, then Raimyd, and rose to leave to his own room. It occurred to him that he had an injury, and had been awake since before the sun even came up. Sleep sounded pretty good to him.

Fast forward, twelve-ish hours, Gabryl had spent most of the day napping, regaining his energy and training his wings to hold him in the air long enough to balance out his limping. Those new appendages were of such convenience outside of regular transportation- though he had a knack for knocking things over and clipping a few feathers indoors.

"Gabryl." Raimyd called, knocking on his door. Gabryl knew it was almost time to leave, and he was just trying to neaten his room, to relieve it of that musty feeling. But even some heavy sweeping left the place dreary.

"Ready, ready." He called back, closing his closet. He was checking a few old cracks and cleaning out spider webs. Gabryl then appeared from his room, wings folded vertically, so as to not bump them on anything more than he needed to, and pulled the door shut along with him. 'So is it just us or- Ow!"

Raimyd blinked. "Jeez, what is it, your leg?"

Gabryl grunted, opened his door a tiny bit, and quickly yanked the tip of his right wing out. He slammed it closed, glaring at it.

"It's uh…yeah, my leg. It's nothing. What's with your, um, injury-thing?"

"Covered it up, no big deal. Starting to get the feeling back in it." He lifted his shoulder some and rotated it, wincing. "

Raimyd turned, and lead the pair to the lobby. Through the windows, Gabryl could tell it was turning out to be a beautiful evening, with the sunset Twilight Town was known for beginning to shape up. Long shadows were cast outside, and the clock tower in the distance was a black rectangular blob.

"There you are." Leyla said, arms crossed, legs pressed together and knees locked Surprisingly, she had not been standing like this to look more intimidating but because of the ensuing cold. Autumn was close, or maybe it had already started.

When Gabryl saw her shoulder jitter a little he realized that he actually had never known when the seasons changed, exactly. It may have just been a cold day in the Spring.

"Huh, didn't pack a change of clothes with you, I see." Leyla commented, motioning towards Gabryl's shredded trousers. He just wobbled on his chilled legs and rubbed his hands together, wishing that he did.

"No problem, I got some extra clothes for you. I like to keep a few high-quality articles of clothing lying around." Raimyd offered. Leyla started walking down the sidewalk, brushing her hair over her ears for warmth.

"Sure, if you like loads of khaki and shitty camouflaged jackets."

"Hey! I said it was a _gift_." He shot back. It really was the umpteenth time he had told her.

And while it was a visually off-putting jacket, Gabryl hoped he would get to wear something like it soon. Perhaps a chance at some Heartless target practice would heat him up, too. The stroll to the park was silent, but full of anticipation that managed to warm Gabryl's bare legs. Cheeks flushed, he asked them,

"So, do you guys have a place in mind? Those things even have a favorite place?"

"Well, wherever there's people." Raimyd explained. "But they like to spawn in dark places. That's why we're going out to the forest on the edge of town."

"And cut them off before they go out…?"

"Gabryl, relax." Leyla said, stopping. They were standing on the curb before a street, one of Twilight Town's trams making its evening run. She turned to him, with a disapproving expression. "You're starting to obsess."

"So what?" He asked, bewildered at her lax attitude. "These things are going to do probably twice the killing we would. That's too much, that's stupid. Why should we let that happen?"

The traffic light on the opposite side of the street changed color, and they walked across; the tops of trees were visible around the next corner.

"Because it's a natural order." Raimyd explained, strolling along. "It's the way things have always been, and you never saw any problem when you were alive, right?"

"I…guess not, but-"

"Exactly, you didn't." Leyla said. "Because there is a balance that exists. The Heartless and what they do are what assure things don't get chaotic. You know that Chapel Hearts religion?"

They had reached the next block when the asked, and Gabryl was a little busy peering into the dark mass of trees close by.

"Um, yes, I guess I do."

"They say that we, the living, and everything you can see here is made up of light. People, mostly their hearts, contribute to the light in the world. But you can't have light without darkness," she pointed to the long silhouettes at their feet, "there's always going to be a shadow cast because of that light. That's the Heartless. They feed off of us, yet we need their existence to survive."

The group came to the forested area, where the town's noises were less prevalent. Gabryl distanced himself from his friends, facing a thick tree trunk. He kicked it once, then twice, then sighed.

"So there has got to be thousands, or _millions_ of Heartless to match all of the people in the world? Even the dead ones like us…I just can't imagine-"

"Mm, no." Leyla interrupted. "I said that the Chapel believes that 'what we can see in the real word' is light. We're invisible to them. Reapers are different then people. Our hearts, they're not…they're not all there. We lack the light that hearts give us, leaving darkness in place of it. We're almost like Heartless; their darkness overpowers the light they steal from normal humans."

Gabryl licked his drying lips, and turned a little, away from the force of an oncoming breeze.

"You're saying we're like Heartless? Like those things that mindlessly attack people?"

"No." She corrected. "Almost like them. We're still our own kind of being. We have our brains, the ability to make lives for ourselves, it's just that no one will ever really know. We're nobodies."

And it was hearing this from someone else that made Gabryl feel, even in his new life with friends and a home, like he was the loneliest person in the world. It was not as if he ever thought that way, about never being known and the like, but it was hearing someone confirm it that almost freaked him out. Like if someone had told you that your nightmares were real.

"Way to make the guy feel down, Ley." Raimyd said, frowning at her. "Gabe, let's go, you and me, take out a few of these things. It'll be fun, not like hanging out with this girl."

Leyla scowled, but she let Raimyd lead Gabryl away, into the forest, without stopping them. Perhaps she had laid it on a bit too thick. It had not been her intention at all to scar him with the reality of their position, especially since they had gotten along so well just earlier that day. Perhaps she would have to remember how fragile his naïve Reaper mind was. He was like a baby to her. A really whiny one, with questionable fashion sense.

"Hey, uh, will Leyla be okay on her own?" Gabryl asked, snapping out of his depression. It just occurred to him that she was alone in this apparent birthing place of Heartless.

"Oh, sure. She's always been a good fighter, especially on her own. Probably wouldn't even call for help if she had to face two of those big bird things that attacked you, heh. She can be pretty cocky, you know."

Gabryl cracked a smile, and brought a hand up to hide it, pretending to wipe his nose.

"Who, her?"

"Hell yes, all the time, especially back in the day. Always been best when she was out on her own, though. Still, I can't even believe we've been out this long without her bragging."

They both broke into smiles this time, illuminated by the small blaze in Raimyd's hand. He had placed the red, spiked Keychain on his palm and let it ignite into a contained fireball to give them some light and warmth. It added a cozy feel, but before either could enjoy it Raimyd closed his fingers into a fist, extinguishing the light. He was suddenly very quiet, in such a foreboding way that Gabryl did not need to be told to not make a sound, and brought his scythe into his right hand with a quick swishing noise. Gabryl had never noticed the strange shape of his partner's blade; it was unlike his own in that it was a wide crescent shape, extending from each side of the shaft at equal lengths. He could not see many other irregularities in it, though the shade from the canopy combined with the late time of day made it impossible to see the dark metal. All Gabryl realized he could do was bring forth his own scythe and prepare for the worst.

Some leaves, possibly above them, shook in what definitely did not feel like a gust of wind. It was too abrupt. Raimyd turned, weapon held out at his side, his back hunched over as if he was ready to lunge at whatever may come at him. Gabryl began to turn as well, but more rustling, from the ground this time, distracted him and drew his eyes back around to their front. His eyes were immediately drawn to the ground; leaves moved, yes, but large indents accompanied the displacement, like footprints.

"Watch it," Raimyd hissed, "it's invisi- buwh!" Before he could get more than a couple words out, he was hit squarely in the chest and sent flying into a clump of bushes.

Gabryl slashed out wildly with his weapon, hoping to catch whatever-that-was at least a little. But the blade made contact with nothing but air, and Gabryl felt his stomach lurch, fearful for not knowing where his enemy was.

"Huh? Where…?" He turned around, then the other direction, and then back to the first, mumbling to himself. "I…Rai! Where is it?"

"The eyes glow!" He shouted form the darkness. "Look for them!"

"Eyes…okay, right, where are the eyes- Gah!"

There the eyes were, not too far from where he stood in a sweaty shock. The two eyes, yellow and rolling in unseen sockets, darted bizarrely in his direction, prompting Gabryl to take a step back. The eyes glowed brighter, almost doubling in size before they discharged all at once; the glows projecting themselves at Gabryl as two beams.

"Lasers _what?_" He yelped, jumping to his left. He landed on the ground just as the blasts fizzled into the leaves where he once stood, leaving a plume of smoke. Clambering back to his feet, Gabryl slashed, again, and fruitlessly, into nothing. He gritted his teeth and kept turning to find the assailant, but there was no more sound. Had the Heartless left? He had to assume it was a Heartless. Crap, could it possibly not be one? What else could it be? Gabryl became more conscious of his sweating.

And then, finally, what sounded like footsteps. Gabryl pulled his scythe-wielding arm back, prepared to strike out at his side, when a red light came out of nowhere in place of the two familiar orbs he was expecting.

"Watch it!" Raimyd shouted, conjuring a ball of flame in his hand. He whipped the fire across the forest clearing, and hit a tree trunk. Gabryl could hear him growl through his teeth, and he threw a second fireball. It must have missed whatever he was aiming for, because Raimyd cursed under his heavy breath. "My aim, I hate it!" And for the third attempt, a larger, even brighter flame ignited in his tightened fist, which he threw with gusto. The larger area must have done something, because this time the projectile stopped before hitting anything, or at least, anything they could see.

"Finally." He sighed, exasperated.

Whatever he had hit was moving, fast, running in circles and shrieking in this alien voice. Raimyd took the Keychain and thrust it into Gabryl's hand, patting him on the shoulder before he began to run at the Heartless.

"Give me back up if it does anything…!" Raimyd called, and with that he jumped up, straddling the monster's neck. The damage had distracted the Heartless to turn visible, making this an easier task. The thing they fought looked like a lizard of some kind; Gabryl assumed a chameleon due to the obvious. Its thick, curled tail thrashed wildly behind it, which must have been what knocked Raimyd out of sight before, and it hissed and roared and made all sorts of sounds a reptile should not be making.

The fire began to die down with Raimyd's presence smothering it. A sizzling and very perturbed chameleon-Heartless felt like changing its target to the Reaper it could get its creepy hands on. Gabryl saw its eyes begin to glow again, so he was ready to dodge the incoming attack. Or, at least the one he was expecting.

What Gabryl did not expect was the Heartless opening its maw and assaulting him with an impossibly long tongue. The sticky, elastic organ launched itself from the Heartless' mouth in less than a second, and all Gabryl could do was struggle when it wrapped around his arms. He felt the tongue getting reeled in by its owner, immediately increasing the worry that he was to be eaten. Raimyd could do next to nothing, as he was currently attempting to put the chameleon in a headlock to prevent it from doing even more harm. All that was left, Gabryl figured, without access to handheld weapons, was the magical piece in his hand.

Oh well. It was set yourself on fire just a little or get digested. Great. At least one of those involved him living a little more.

He closed his eyes, trying to tap into the power like he had down only days before. He felt a heat rising up in his arm, and then his shoulder- Was he on fire? Gabryl did not feel like looking very much, what with it being his arm on fire, but he had to make sure he was taking that step towards not being eaten.

His eyes opened. There was fire, but not a lot. He worried; he was starting to get yanked ff of his feet by the pull of the tongue.

"No, no, no, no. Not…eating me! Get off!" He twisted around, but was stuck. It was funny, he mused in the most inappropriate time, how he had always been told the tongue was one of the strongest muscles in the body.

But, right, bad time to be thinking about trivialities. What he needed was a way out of this. He needed to move his arms, just grab on to something and tug back, but how could he do that? He was trapped, this was it. The terrors of dying and losing what he had gained began to sink in, just like they had back at the castle.

As Gabryl worried more and more, he felt something inside of him tugging- not as his body, but at something in his chest. He gasped, feeling like something was digging through him, like a worm through an apple. It made him feel nauseas, and his vision started to blur. What Gabryl was able to see, however, was something coming close to the length of tongue still between him and the Heartless. Something large and black, with digits, like a hand. It descended upon the stretch of pink before him, grabbing it tightly within its grasp. He heard the chameleon squeal as it happened, meaning he was not just getting delirious.

However, before Gabryl could find out what it was, or where it came from, another shadow came down from above. This one was smaller and faster, and carried with it a long, sharp object. Before the figure hit the ground, the Heartless' tongue had been sliced in half. It squealed louder than it had before, more in pain than distress. It jumped up and down vigorously before flopping on its side to the ground.

"Yes!" Raimyd yelled, sounding very much elated. "Die, thing!"

And after a few very generous blows to the head, the Heartless was evaporating into a black mist.

Gabryl was sitting on the ground, now very cold even after being on fire. The figure that had come down before, which he now recognized without his head spinning, walked over and offered her hand.

"You alright?" Leyla asked.

Gabryl took her hand and grunted as he stood up.

"Leg bothering you?" She was being weirdly kind.

"Not really, I guess." He has to admit it he was experiencing the effects of that accelerated Reaper healing. "Just, almost being someone's dinner rattles you up I guess."

She seemed entertained by the statement, perhaps getting used to Gabryl's brand of hopeless-trying-to-be-funny humor. Therefore she did not think it would hurt to smile a little, and she did.

"You'll be fine. Speaking of which, I haven't had dinner yet, you?"

Gabryl had not eaten…anything. For some time.

"I guess I could eat."

"Man, me too!" Raimyd announced, leaning on his scythe where the Heartless had been slaughtered. His clothes were terribly burnt and torn, but he looked like he did not notice or care. Both Gabryl and Leyla found this odd.

"The damn coat still looks good though, damn." She whispered to herself.

"Is the coat bad for some reason?" Gabryl inquired, with justified curiosity.

"That thing is," She rolled her eyes, "well, I'll tell you later. Long story."

"Oh, alright." People keeping promises to him made him feel delightfully like he was in the loop.

The sun had set by this point, leaving the forest almost pitch dark and, logically, full of more Heartless. For this reason they hurried out of there, to the safety of the outskirts of an urban city at night. They walked leisurely to a restaurant or café or whatever was on the way and cheap.

"Thanks for helping me out back there, Leyla." Gabryl said, breathing in the cold nightly air.

"Well I felt more than obliged." She responded, scoffing jokingly.

"But, hey, can you show me how to do that sometime?"

"Do what?"

"The thing you did, to get rid of the…thing."

She looked at him, raising an eyebrow and then lowering it, and making a show of doing so.

"I jumped."

"Yeah, and the other thing."

"Using my scythe to cut the tongue?"

"And?"

"…Landing?"

Gabryl felt very stupid all of a sudden and also felt like the feeling was warranted.

"If you wanted to get better and jumping around trees or something, it's really more about flying. I don't think there's a lot I could tell you, uh." She scratched her head, completely unaware of what he could have been asking about.

"Oh, um, yes, thank you." He was suddenly bluffing. "I will be sure to do that."

"Okay, good for you."

The awkward levels rising, they mutually decided to cut off the conversation. Gabryl felt fine, though. If he was not _pretty_ sure that she was his friend then there would be grounds to worry, but he was in a fine position to mess things up.

"Nice." Raimyd said to the two of them looking down the street. "That place I like over here is still open. You would love it, Leyla, it has these great…"

The ensuing conversation faded in Gabryl's ears. While he did feel strange about the failed interchange he just went through, it did leave the question as to what that hand thing was, and where it came from.


End file.
